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DIALOGUES  Of  PLATO 


CONTAINING 

THE  APOLOGY  OF  SOCRATES,  CRITO, 

PHAEDO,  AND  PROTAGORAS 


WITH   INTRODUCTIONS   BY   THE    TRANSLATOR, 
BENJAMIN   JOWETT 

AND  A  SPECIAL  INTRODUCTION   BY 
MAURICE    FRANCIS    EGAN,    Ph.D. 

PROFESSOR   OF   ENGLISH   LANGUAGE   AND   LITERATURE 
AT   THE   CATHOLIC    UNIVERSITY  OF  AMERICA 


REVISED   EDITION 


THE 


imo)xo)xo)X7ynz^ 


IJ -London:,  i    nn r  c c    feNEWYORK-^: 
^ — ^M- vcT  \  i  PRESS  u  7  )hfll^.^„i=^ 


Copyright,  1900, 
By  the  colonial  PRESS. 


SPECIAL  INTRODUCTION 


To  the  "  Dialogues  of  Plato  "  and  "  The  Politics  of  Aristotle  " 

THERE  are  some  living  lovers  of  the  Latin  tongue  who 
hold  that  the  Roman  Empire  existed  only  that  the 
language  of  Cicero  might  be  born.  Such  enthusiasts 
are  growing  fewer  as  the  ideas  of  the  Renaissance  dwindle 
before  the  rise  of  modern  experimentalism.  But  the  admirers 
of  Greek  prose,  which  was  also  adored  of  the  Renaissance, 
are  increasing  rather  than  decreasing  and,  while  they  are  not 
so  fanatical  as  the  elder  Latinists,  they  hold  that,  if  Athens 
had  done  no  more  for  the  world  than  give  academic  shelter  to 
Plato,  the  city  of  the  violet  crown  would  have  fulfilled  her 
mission.  Leaving  out  the  question  of  the  Attic  delights  of 
Plato's  style,  one  will  find  enough  reason  for  this  belief — which 
is  not  extreme — in  Benjamin  Jowett's  translation  of  the  "  Re- 
public "  and  the  "  Dialogues  "  of  Plato,  four  of  which  are  here 
presented.  Of  their  value  Dr.  Jowett  gives,  in  his  introduc- 
tions to  them,  sufficient  appreciation.  The  dialogues  offered 
are  "  The  Apology  of  Socrates ;  "  "  Crito ;  "  "  Phaedo,  or  the 
Immortality  of  the  Soul ; "  and  "  Protagoras."  These  have 
been  chosen  because  they  are  essentially  Platonic — because 
they  represent,  at  its  best,  the  manner  of  Plato,  and  are  among 
the  most  characteristic,  stimulating,  and  interesting  of  his  dia- 
logues. How  modern  they  are !  exclaims  the  reader,  who  has 
known  them  only  through  paraphrases,  and  who  begins  to 
realize  that  Socrates  and  Plato  and  Aristotle  are  links  which 
join  our  time  of  fuller  light  to  the  very  Alpha  of  things — to  the 
Ancient  of  days. 

We  have  deduced  and  experimented,  and  we  force  physics 
and  mechanics,  controlled  by  the  analytical  mind,  further  and 
further  into  the  unseen  mystery  of  nature;  we  are  more  and 
more  conquerors  of  matter ;  but,  when  we  attack  the  problems 


if  PLATO  AND  ARISTOTLE 

of  the  mind,  when  we  touch  the  things  of  metaphysics,  we  cross 
hands  over  a  gulf  of  more  than  two  thousand  years,  with  Plato, 
Aristotle,  and  Socrates,  and  find  the  questions  of  the  intellect 
the  same,  and  the  answers  similar.  The  Catholic  Church,  the 
most  psychological  of  all  organizations,  has  adopted  Aristotle, 
for  he  was  the  master  of  St.  Thomas  Aquinas,  philosophically, 
as  Vergil  was  the  master  of  Dante,  poetically.  The  philosophy 
of  St.  Thomas  is  based  on  that  of  Aristotle,  who  was  the  pupil 
of  Plato,  and  the  philosophy  of  Aristotle,  purged,  illuminated, 
refined — as  each  of  the  great  three  refined  on  one  another — 
is  the  philosophy  of  Dante. 

Who  of  the  modems  has  escaped  these  three?  Montaigne, 
or  Bacon,  or  Kant,  or  Hegel,  or  Schopenhauer,  or  Rosmini? 
Not  one!  Who  has  gone  beyond  them?  Not  one!  When 
Emerson  is  not  Platonic,  he  is  not  philosophical.  And  the 
same  questions  of  the  intellect  which  helped  to  make  Hamlet 
doubt  are  those  which  arise,  over  and  over  again,  in  the  dia- 
logues of  Plato,  and  which  are  only  answered  since  reason  and 
divine  revelation  have  become  a  synthesis.  Kant  and  Berkeley, 
who  came  strangely  near  to  the  all-negation  of  Pyrrho,  are 
saved  by  Socrates  and  Plato.  And  Fichte  and  Hegel  and 
Schopenhauer  are  combated  by  them,  as  Socrates  combated 
Democritus,  Epicurus,  and  Pyrrho.  Kant,  overwhelmed  by  the 
splendor  of  nature  and  the  awful  sense  of  human  responsibility, 
can  only  find  relief  in  the  ideality  of  all  things.  Plato  does 
better  than  this.  Pyrrho,  who,  too,  was  idealist,  and  who 
doubted  the  existence  of  the  concrete  thing,  nevertheless  shyed 
before  the  concrete  chariot  wheels  in  the  streets — and  still  his 
pupils  believed  in  him  ;  and  Kant  and  Berkeley  have  still  pupils 
who  believe  in  their  doubt ! 

But,  after  all,  comparisons  in  favor  of  the  great  three,  who 
taught  one  another,  and  who  were  like  luminous  clouds, 
not  fully  illuminated,  but  giving  light,  may  lead  one  too  far. 
It  is  true,  however,  that  to  the  receptive  mind,  there  can  be 
few  greater  pleasures  than  that  of  noting  the  effect  of  the 
great  Athenians  on  modern  thought.  In  fact,  it  may  be  almost 
said  that  all  modern  philosophy  is  but  an  elaboration,  a  develop- 
ment, a  criticism,  of  the  essence  and  the  methods  of  these  three 
men. 

Socrates,  bom  b.c.  468,  was  the  master  of  the  two  others, 
Plato  and  Aristotle.    He  was  a  reformer  pure  and  simnk,  and 


SPECIAL  INTRODUCTION  V 

he  arose  at  a  time  when  doubt  and  sensuaUty,  as  represented 
by  the  teachings  of  Pyrrho  and  the  distorted  dicta  of  Epicurus, 
had  corrupted  the  Athenian  mind  and  heart.  The  Sophists, 
too,  juggled  with  words,  and  the  people  had  come  to  delight 
in  verbal  pyrotechnics  and  to  care  nothing  for  truth.  He  was 
the  son  of  Sophroniscus,  a  sculptor.  Diogenes  tells  us  that, 
having  zealously  attended  the  lectures  of  Anaxagoras  and 
Archelaus,  he  was  observed  by  a  rich  Athenian,  who  gave  him 
the  means  of  pursuing  his  studies  in  philosophy.  This  en- 
trancing study  did  not  prevent  him  from  entering  the  army 
and  doing  his  duty  as  a  citizen.  He  was  not  a  dreamer,  though 
the  hidden  daemon,  on  whose  direction  he  depended,  dwelt 
within  him.  He  served  as  a  soldier  in  the  campaign  of  Potidaea, 
at  Delium,  when  he  saved  his  pupil,  Xenophon,  and  at  Amphi- 
polis.  And  yet  he  lived  in  a  world  of  beautiful  dreams.  Plato, 
his  disciple,  represents  the  idealistic  side  of  his  nature ;  Aristotle 
and  Xenophon,  no  less  his  acolytes,  the  practical  side.  The 
splendid  Alcibiades  was  not  easily  moulded.  His  inner  voice 
warned  him  not  to  interfere  in  politics,  though  he  desired,  above 
all  things,  to  elevate  his  countrymen  morally  and  socially.  He 
seems  to  have  yielded  to  popular  superstition  whenever  he  did 
not  clash  with  the  great  objective  truths  on  which  the  base 
of  his  moral  teaching  rested.  Nevertheless,  B.C.  399,  when  he 
was  seventy  years  of  age,  he  was  accused  of  not  believing  in 
the  national  deities  and  of  corrupting  youth.  He  was  neutral 
in  politics,  and  when  he  had  interfered,  three  times  in  his  life, 
it  had  been  for  the  unpopular  side.  He  had  loved  the  younger 
Pericles  and  admired  Critias  and  Alcibiades;  he  was  aristo- 
cratic in  his  tendencies.  Besides,  we  are  told,  on  good  author- 
ity, that  Socrates  had  endeavored  to  lure  the  son  of  the  rich 
Anytus  from  leather-selling  to  philosophy.  Again,  Socrates 
was  scornful  and  satirical ;  no  guilty  man  escaped  his  sarcasm 
and  irony.  And  his  power  of  eloquent  indignation  was  so  great 
that  even  the  victims  of  it  forgot  his  fat  body,  his  two  full 
eyes,  his  careless  dress,  and  thought  for  the  moment  that  he 
was  an  avenging  god.  Truth  and  morality  were  real  things ; 
so  he  thought,  and,  when  by  a  small  majority,  he  was  con- 
demned to  die,  he  would  not  violate  law,  which  was  sacred. 
He  might  have  bought  himself  off  by  a  fine,  he  might  have 
bribed  the  factions,  he  might  have  escaped  by  the  help  of  his 
friends.     He  was  forced  to  wait  thirty  days  until  the  sacred 


vi  PLATO  AND  ARISTOTLE 

trireme  came  from  Delphos.  "  In  this  interval,"  Dr.  Browne 
says,  in  his  "  History  of  Greek  Classical  Literature  " — a  book 
which  ought  to  be  revived — "  we  are  indebted  for  that  con- 
versation on  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  which  Plato  has  em- 
bodied in  his  '  Phaedo,'  and  although  Plato  was  not  himself 
present,  it  is  so  Socratic  that  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  it 
was  faithfully  reported  by  those  who  were  with  him  at  his 
last  moments."  He  drank  the  hemlock,  not  for  love  of  death, 
but  for  love  of  the  law.  Socrates  was  not  a  conscious  teacher 
of  systematic  philosophy,  he  was  a  moral  teacher,  with  a  set 
of  principles.  The  perfect  intellect  was  the  Omega  of  life. 
Knowledge,  to  him,  was  the  first  of  all  things  in  the  way  to 
the  supreme  good — which  was  truth.  He  believed  in  an  omnip- 
otent supreme  being,  the  first  cause,  and  that  the  rational  in 
man  was  a  part  of  this  Governing  Being.  In  the  after  life,  all 
would  be  well  with  the  noble  soul,  he  believed.  To  be  like 
this  Supreme  Being,  we  must  cultivate  our  intellect  at  the  ex- 
pense of  the  lower  qualities.  Virtue  was  science;  perfect 
knowledge  was  perfect  virtue;  therefore  ignorance  was  the 
only  sin,  and  that  an  involuntary  sin.  The  entirely  wise  man 
— the  possessor  of  perfect  science — could  not  sin. 

Although  it  seems  difficult  to  formulate  exactly  the  prin- 
ciples of  Socrates,  and  to  discover  their  central  point,  the  fact 
that  Plato's  system  is  set  in  one  key  makes  it  easier  to  analyze 
Platonism.  The  human  soul  is  of  the  same  spirit  as  the  Su- 
preme Being ;  it  neither  begins  nor  ends ;  the  soul  knew  itself 
and  still  remembers  some  of  its  knowledge.  The  splendor  of 
another  world  is  reflected  upon  it.  Plato  systematized  previous 
theories ;  Aristotle  followed  his  example.  It  was  reserved  for 
St.  Thomas  Aquinas  to  meet  sophisms,  with  fuller  knowledge 
than  Socrates,  and  to  make  a  summa  of  the  best  that  had  pre- 
ceded him.  The  philosophical  movement  is  not  of  one  time; 
it  goes  on,  widening,  classifying,  perfecting  itself  from  epoch 
to  epoch. 

Aristocles  (born  B.C.  429),  called  Plato  from  the  breadth 
of  his  shoulders,  offers  a  striking  example  of  this.  Having 
gathered  the  best  that  had  preceded  him,  he  made  a  great  leap 
forward  by  developing  his  own  theory  above  the  ruins  of  old 
errors.  His  methods  are  improved  upon  those  of  Socrates. 
He  meets  Protagoras  with  the  assertion  that  all  knowledge  is 
not  the  result  of  materialistic  contact — or,  in  other  words,  of 


SPECIAL  INTRODUCTION  vii 

sensation.  And  he  opposed  himself  to  the  Eleatic  assertion 
that  no  knowledge  can  be  obtained  through  the  senses.  He 
held  that  man  was  composed  of  body  and  soul,  intimately  re- 
lated. The  apprehension  of  the  intellect  is  pure  and  immuta- 
ble; the  apprehension  of  the  senses  non-essential,  changeable. 
The  body  is  an  impediment  to  truth.  When  the  soul  is  free 
from  the  body,  it  may,  unblinded,  see  truth.  All  that  exists, 
exists  only  so  far  as  it  participates  in  the  absolute  and  un- 
changeable Divine  Idea,  of  which  the  soul  is  part.  God  and 
the  highest  good  are  the  same ;  the  highest  idea  is  good.  He 
believes  in  the  living  soul  and  in  the  Deity  who  pervades  the 
universe.  He  has  been  called  a  Pantheist  as  not  having  the 
fixed  idea  of  a  personal  intelligence.  But  a  careful  reading  of 
the  four  dialogues  collected  here  will,  I  fancy,  show  that  he 
was  much  more  than  a  believer  in  an  abstract,  pervasive,  eternal 
principle.  The  soul  of  the  world  permeates  the  world,  and  from 
it  come  other  souls,  to  be  supported  by  it.  Plato  is  a  firm  be- 
liever in  the  immortality  of  the  soul.  In  the  most  poetical  of 
the  dialogues,  "  Phaedo,"  we  find  this  philosopher,  who  would 
have,  in  an  ideal  republic,  driven  poets  into  the  wilderness, 
crowned  with  flowers,  invalidating  his  arguments  by  an  ascent 
into  the  myths  of  the  singers.  He  held,  with  Pythagoras,  the 
doctrine  of  the  transmigration  of  souls,  so  fascinating  in  all  ages 
to  the  imagination,  and  from  this  followed  the  theory  of  the 
reminiscences  of  the  half-awakened  soul,  which  Wordsworth 
calls  the  "  trailing  clouds  of  glory."  According  to  Plato  man 
may  choose  the  good,  and  this  the  philosopher,  free  and  uncon- 
strained, will  do — for  God  is  not  fate.  Plato  was  a  soldier,  like 
Socrates.  Unlike  Socrates,  to  whose  influence  he  acknowledged 
that  he  owed  all,  he  founded  a  school. 

Aristotle  (born  B.C.  384),  his  most  distinguished  pupil,  was 
not  an  Athenian.  His  father  was  court  physician  to  Amyntas 
II,  King  of  Macedon ;  he  was  not  of  noble  descent,  as  was  Plato, 
who  claimed  King  Codrus  and  Solon  among  his  ancestors. 
His  father,  a  learned  man,  directed  his  tastes.  At  the  age  of 
seventeen  he  was  left  alone  in  the  world,  but  his  inherited 
fortune  enabled  him  to  pursue  his  studies.  At  Athens,  he 
deserved  the  praise  of  Plato,  who  called  him  "  the  mind  of  the 
school."  He  did  not  hesitate  to  argue  with  his  preceptor.  He 
ioved  Plato ;  but  between  Plato  and  truth,  he  chose  truth.  It 
is  said  that,  on  a  day  when  Aristotle  was  the  only  pupil  present 


viii  PLATO  AND  ARISTOTLE 

at  a  lecture,  Plato  said  that  so  long  as  he  had  Aristotle,  he 
had  the  better  half  of  Athens.  Aristotle  founded  the  Per- 
ipatetic school.  After  the  death  of  Plato,  he  became  (b.c. 
324)  tutor  to  Alexander,  who,  later,  rewarded  him  munifi- 
cently. But,  when  Alexander  died,  the  enemies  of  Aristotle 
at  Athens  prepared  to  end  him  or  to  make  him  give  up  the 
enormous  sum  which  Alexander  had  given  him.  To  prevent 
the  Athenians  from  committing  another  crime,  he  went  to  the 
island  of  Euboea,  where  he  died  b.c.  322. 

Aristotle  was  the  idol  of  the  philosophical  world  until  the 
Renaissance.  While  Plato  is  of  imagination  all  compact, 
Aristotle  is  practical,  systematic,  regular.  Plato  was  an  ideal- 
ist, he  was  a  poet  at  heart,  and  he  had  the  dramatic  faculty,  as 
one  may  see  from  even  a  slight  reading  of  the  dialogues. 
Plato  had  inspiration,  and  exquisite  grace  of  literary  utter- 
ance; Aristotle  had  neither,  but  he  was  a  master  of  analysis. 
Plato  sometimes  forgot  man  and  that  he  was  a  man ;  Aristotle 
was  always  in  sight  of  earth;  he  was  the  most  practical,  the 
serenest,  the  most  learned  man  of  his  time.  Logic  stood  first 
with  him — ^his  chief  treatise  on  this  subject  is  the  "  Organum." 
That  the  world  owes  to  him  the  formulation  of  the  deductive 
method  is  too  well  known  to  be  repeated  here ;  it  is  a  common 
fallacy  that  Bacon  founded  the  inductive  system ;  he  merely 
elaborated  the  suggestions  of  Aristotle.  Aristotle  held  that 
death  finished  the  good  and  bad;  he  doubted  that  the  soul 
could  exist  apart  from  the  body.  Reason  was  omnipresent 
and  divine.  As  modern  scientists  use  the  atomic  theory  as  a 
tool,  s6  Christian  philosophers  have  adopted  the  methods  of 
Aristotle  in  systematizing  truth. 

Aristotle's  "  Poetics  "  and  "  Politics  "  cut  clear  to  the  causes 
of  things.  The  "  Poetics  "  is  better  known ;  the  "  Politics  " 
the  more  important.  Ethics  and  politics,  with  Aristotle,  are 
inseparable.  The  State  must  be  founded  on  a  basis  of  good. 
The  greatest  good  of  each  family  must  be  safeguarded,  so  far 
as  the  good  of  the  State  can  be  safeguarded.  The  morality 
of  the  people  determines  the  morality  of  the  State.  It  is, 
therefore,  the  duty  of  the  State  to  direct  education ;  and,  as  the 
moral  condition  of  the  citizen  is  a  prime  factor  in  the  State, 
each  citizen  should  be  trained,  so  far  as  possible,  in  the  science 
of  politics.  Administrators  of  private  education  should  be 
efficient  in  the  science  of  Icg-islation.     Aristotle's  views  on 


SPECIAL  INTRODUCTION  ix 

politics  are  worthy  of  the  closest  study.  He  hated  most, 
after  monarchical  tyranny,  the  rule  of  the  mob.  He  was  in 
favor  of  a  property  qualification  for  the  exercise  of  the  highest 
privileges  of  citizenship.  He  believed,  though,  he  was  more 
aristocratic  than  democratic,  that  the  legislator  should  secure 
the  goodwill  of  the  middle  classes,  as  they  are  the  ballast  of 
the  ship  of  the  State.  He  had  no  sympathy  with  communism. 
The  basis  of  his  system  was  the  union  of  families  for  common 
contentment  and  progress.  Ethics  stood  at  one  end  of  his 
political  system ;  economics  at  the  other. 

At  the  end  of  the  beginning  of  the  twentieth  century,  it 
becomes  us  to  look  back,  and  to  discover  the  beginning  of 
things,  when  the  pollen  flew  from  the  plant  and  the  seeds  were 
sown.  The  self-sufficiency  (avrapxeca)  which  Aristotle  loved 
in  the  State  is  not  that  modern  self-sufficiency  which  we  find 
in  individuals  who  have  lost  the  possibility  of  looking  intelli- 
gently forward  because  they  are  not  sufficiently  cultured  to 
look  backward. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Introduction  to  the  Apology  of  Socrates i 

The  Apology  of  Socrates 1 1 

Introduction  to  Crito 37 

Crito 41 

Introduction  to  Ph^edo 55 

PHiEDO 77 

Introduction  to  Protagoras 143 

Protagoras 1 54 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACINO  PAGI 

Plato Frontispiece 

Photogravure  from  the  original  marble  bust 

Socrates ^° 

Photogravure  from  the  original  marble  bust 

The  Parthenon  at  Athens 142 

Photogravure  reproduced  from  a  photograph 


INTRODUCTION 

TO 

THE   APOLOGY    OF   SOCRATES 

IN  what  relation  the  "Apology"  of  Plato  stands  to  the 
real  defence  of  Socrates,  there  is  no  means  of  deter- 
mining. It  certainly  agrees  in  tone  and  character  with 
the  description  of  Xenophon,  who  says  in  the  "  Memorabilia  " 
(iv.  4,  4)  that  Socrates  might  have  been  acquitted  "  if  in  any 
moderate  degree  he  would  have  conciliated  the  favor  of  the 
dicasts";  and  who  informs  us  in  another  passage  (iv.  8,  4), 
on  the  testimony  of  Hermogenes,  the  friend  of  Socrates,  that 
he  had  no  wish  to  live;  and  that  the  divine  sign  refused  to 
allow  him  to  prepare  a  defence,  and  also  that  Socrates  him- 
self declared  this  to  be  unnecessary,  on  the  ground  that  all  his 
life  long  he  had  been  preparing  against  that  hour.  For  the 
speech  breathes  throughout  a  spirit  of  defiance,  "ut  non  supplex 
aut  reus  sed  magister  aut  dominus  videretur  esse  judicum" 
(Cic.  "  de  Orat."  i.  54)  ;  and  the  loose  and  desultory  style 
is  an  imitation  of  the  "  accustomed  manner  "  in  which  Socrates 
spoke  in  "  the  agora  and  among  the  tables  of  the  money- 
changers." The  allusion  in  the  "  Crito  "  (45  b)  may,  perhaps, 
be  adduced  as  a  further  evidence  ol  the  literal  accuracy  of 
some  parts  (37  c,  d).  But  in  the  main  it  must  be  regarded 
as  the  ideal  of  Socrates,  acceding  to  Plato's  conception  of 
him,  appearing  in  the  greatest  and  most  public  scene  of  his 
life,  and  in  the  height  of  his  triumph,  when  he  is  weakest,  and 
yet  his  mastery  over  mankind  is  greatest,  and  the  habitual 
irony  of  his  life  acquires  a  new  meaning  and  a  sort  of  tragic 
pathos  in  the  face  of  death.  The  facts  of  his  life  are  summed 
up,  and  the  features  of  his  character  are  brought  out,  as  if 
by  accident  in  the  course  of  the  defence.  The  looseness  of  the 
style  and  the  seeming  want  of  arrangement  of  the  topics  are 
found  to  result  in  a  perfect  work  of  art,  which  is  the  portrait 
of  Socrates. 

I 


2  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

Yet  some  of  the  topics  may  have  been  actually  used  by 
Socrates ;  and  the  recollection  of  his  very  words  may  have 
rung  in  the  ears  of  his  disciple.  The  "  Apology  "  of  Plato  may 
be  compared  generally  with  those  speeches  of  Thucydides  in 
which  he  has  embodied  his  conception  of  the  lofty  character 
and  policy  of  the  great  Pericles,  and  which  at  the  same  time 
furnish  a  commentary  on  the  situation  of  affairs  from  the  point 
of  view  of  the  historian.  So  in  the  "  Apology  "  there  is  an 
ideal  rather  than  a  Hteral  truth;  much  is  said  that  ought  to 
have  been  said  but  was  not  said,  and  is  only  Plato's  view  o* 
the  situation.  And  we  may  perhaps  even  indulge  in  the  fancy 
that  the  actual  defence  of  Socrates  was  as  much  greater  than 
the  Platonic  defence  as  the  master  was  greater  than  the  disciple. 
But  in  any  case,  some  of  the  words  actually  used  have  prob- 
ably been  preserved.  It  is  significant  that  Plato  is  said  to  have 
been  present  at  the  defence  (38  b),  as  he  is  also  said  to  have 
been  absent  at  the  last  scene  in  the  "  Phaedo  "  (59  b).  Is  it 
fanciful  to  suppose  that  he  meant  to  give  the  stamp  of  authen- 
ticity to  the  one  and  not  to  the  other? — especially  when  we 
remember  that  these  two  passages  are  the  only  ones  in  which 
Plato  makes  mention  of  himself.  Moreover,  the  "  Apology  " 
appears  to  combine  the  common  characteristics  both  of  the 
Xenophontean  and  Platonic  Socrates,  while  the  "  Phaedo " 
passes  into  a  region  of  thought  which  is  very  characteristic 
of  Plato,  but  not  of  his  master. 

There  is  not  much  in  the  other  dialogues  which  can  be  com- 
pared with  the  "  Apology."  The  same  recollection  of  his 
master  may  have  been  present  to  the  mind  of  Plato  when 
depicting  the  sufferings  of  the  Just  in  the  "  Republic."  The 
"  Crito  "  may  also  be  regarded  as  a  sort  of  appendage  to  the 
"  Apology,"  in  which  Socrates,  who  has  defied  the  judges,  is 
nevertheless  represented  as  scrupulously  obedient  to  the  laws. 
The  idealization  of  the  sufferer  is  carried  still  further  in  the 
"  Georgias "  (476  foil.),  in  which  the  thesis  is  maintained, 
that  "  to  suffer  is  better  than  to  do  evil  " ;  and  the  art  of 
rhetoric  is  described  as  only  useful  for  the  purpose  of  self- 
accusation.  The  parallelisms  which  occur  in  the  so-called 
"  Apology  "  of  Xenophon  are  not  worth  noticing,  because  the 
writing  in  which  they  are  contained  is  manifestly  spurious. 
The  statements  of  the  "  Memorabilia"  (i.  2,  iv.  8)  respecting 
the  trial  and  death  of  Socrates  agree  generally  with  Plato; 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  APOLOGY  3 

but  they  have  lost  the  flavor  of  Socratic  irony  in  the  narrative 
of  Xenophon. 

The  "  Apology  "  or  Platonic  defence  of  Socrates  is  divided 
into  three  parts:  (i)  The  defence  properly  so  called;  (2) 
The  shorter  address  in  mitigation  of  the  penalty;  (3)  The 
last  words  of  prophetic  rebuke  and  exhortation. 

The  first  part  commences  with  an  apology  for  his  colloquial 
style ;  he  is,  as  he  has  always  been,  the  enemy  of  rhetoric,  and 
knows  of  no  rhetoric  but  truth;  he  will  not  falsify  his  char- 
acter by  making  a  speech.  Then  he  proceeds  to  divide  his 
accusers  into  two  classes:  first,  there  is  the  nameless  accuser 
— public  opinion.  All  the  world  from  their  earliest  years  had 
heard  that  he  was  a  corrupter  of  youth,  and  had  seen  him 
caricatured  in  the  "  Clouds "  of  Aristophanes.  Secondly, 
there  are  the  professed  accusers,  who  are  but  the  mouthpiece 
of  the  others.  The  accusations  of  both  might  be  summed  up 
in  a  formula.  The  first  say,  "  Socrates  is  an  evil-doer  and 
a  curious  person,  searching  into  things  under  the  earth  and 
above  the  heaven,  and  making  the  worst  appear  the  better 
cause,  and  teaching  all  this  to  others."  The  second,  "  Socrates 
is  an  evil-doer  and  corrupter  of  the  youth,  who  does  not  re- 
ceive the  gods  whom  the  State  receives,  but  introduces  other 
new  divinities."  These  last  appear  to  have  been  the  words  of 
the  actual  indictment,  of  which  the  previous  formula  is  a 
parody. 

The  answer  begins  by  clearing  up  a  confusion.  In  the  repre- 
sentations of  the  comic  poets,  and  in  the  opinion  of  the  multi- 
tude, he  had  been  confounded  with  the  teachers  of  physical 
science  and  with  the  Sophists.  But  this  was  an  error.  For 
both  of  them  he  professes  a  respect  in  the  open  court,  which 
contrasts  with  his  manner  of  speaking  about  them  in  other 
places.  But  at  the  same  time  he  shows  that  he  is  not  one  of 
them.  Of  natural  philosophy  he  knows  nothing;  not  that  he 
despises  such  pursuits,  but  the  fact  is  that  he  is  ignorant  of 
them,  and  never  says  a  word  about  them.  Nor  does  he  receive 
money  for  teaching;  that  is  another  mistaken  notion,  for  he 
has  nothing  to  teach.  But  he  commends  Evenus  for  teaching 
virtue  at  such  a  moderate  rate.  Something  of  the  "  accus- 
tomed irony,"  which  may  perhaps  be  expected  to  sleep  in  the 
ear  of  the  multitude,  is  lurking  here. 

He  then  goes  on  to  explain  the  reason  why  he  is  in  such  an 


4  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

evil  name.  That  had  arisen  out  of  a  peculiar  mission  which 
he  had  taken  upon  himself.  The  enthusiastic  Chaerephon  (prob- 
ably in  anticipation  of  the  answer  he  received)  had  gone  to 
Delphi  and  asked  the  oracle  if  there  was  any  man  wiser  than 
Socrates;  and  the  answer  was  that  there  was  no  man  wiser. 
What  could  be  the  meaning  of  this — that  he  who  knew  nothing, 
and  knew  that  he  knew  nothing,  should  be  declared  by  the 
oracle  to  be  the  wisest  of  men  ?  Reflecting  upon  this,  he  deter- 
mined to  refute  the  oracle  by  finding  "  a  wiser  " ;  and  first  he 
went  to  the  politicians,  and  then  to  the  poets,  and  then  to  the 
craftsmen,  but  always  with  the  same  result — ^he  found  that 
they  knew  nothing,  or  hardly  anything  more  than  himself ;  and 
that  the  little  advantage  which  in  some  cases  they  possessed  was 
more  than  counterbalanced  by  their  conceit  of  knowledge.  He 
knew  nothing,  and  knew  that  he  knew  nothing:  they  knew 
little  or  nothing,  and  imagined  that  they  knew  all  things.  Thus 
he  had  passed  his  life  as  a  sort  of  missionary  in  detecting  the 
pretended  wisdom  of  mankind ;  and  this  occupation  had  quite 
absorbed  him  and  taken  him  away  both  from  public  and  pri- 
vate affairs.  Young  men  of  the  richer  sort  had  made  a  pas- 
time of  the  same  pursuit,  "  which  was  not  unamusing."  And 
hence  bitter  enmities  had  arisen ;  the  professors  of  knowledge 
had  revenged  themselves  by  calling  him  a  villanous  corrupter 
of  the  youth,  and  by  repeating  the  commonplaces  about  athe- 
ism and  materialism  and  sophistry,  which  are  the  stock  accusa- 
tions against  all  philosophers  when  there  is  nothing  else  to  be 
said  of  them. 

The  second  accusation  he  meets  by  interrogating  Meletus, 
who  is  present  and  can  be  interrogated.  "  If  he  is  the  cor- 
rupter, who  is  the  improver  of  the  citizens  ?  "  "  All  mankind." 
But  how  absurd,  how  contrary  to  analogy  is  this!  How  in- 
conceivable too,  that  he  should  make  the  citizens  worse  when 
he  has  to  live  with  them.  This  surely  cannot  be  intentional: 
and  if  unintentional,  he  ought  to  have  been  instructed  by 
Meletus,  and  not  accused  in  the  court. 

But  there  is  another  part  of  the  indictment  which  says  that 
he  teaches  men  not  to  receive  the  gods  whom  the  city  receives, 
and  has  other  new  gods.  "  Is  that  the  way  in  which  he  is  sup- 
posed to  corrupt  the  youth  ?  "  "  Yes,  that  is  the  way."  "  Has 
he  only  new  gods,  or  none  at  all  ?  "  "  None  at  all."  "  What,  not 
even  the  sun  and  moon  ?  "    "  No ;  why,  he  says  that  the  sun 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  APOLOGY  5 

is  a  stone,  and  the  moon  earth."  That,  replies  Socrates,  is  the 
old  confusion  about  Anaxagoras;  the  Athenian  people  are 
not  so  ignorant  as  to  attribute  to  the  influence  of  Socrates 
notions  which  have  found  their  way  into  the  drama,  and  may 
be  learned  at  the  theatre.  Socrates  undertakes  to  show  that 
Meletus  (rather  unjustifiably)  has  been  compounding  a  riddle 
in  this  part  of  the  indictment.  "  There  are  no  gods,  but 
Socrates  believes  in  the  existence  of  the  sons  of  gods,  which 
is  absurd." 

Leaving  Meletus,  who  has  had  enough  words  spent  upon 
him,  he  returns  to  his  original  accusers.  The  question  may  be 
asked.  Why  will  he  persist  in  following  a  profession  which 
leads  him  to  death  ?  Why — because  he  must  remain  at  his  post 
where  the  God  has  placed  him,  as  he  remained  at  Potidaea, 
and  Amphipolis,  and  Delium,  where  the  generals  placed  him. 
Besides,  he  is  not  so  overwise  as  to  imagine  that  he  knows 
whether  death  is  a  good  or  an  evil ;  and  he  is  certain  that  deser- 
tion of  his  duty  is  an  evil.  Anytus  is  quite  right  in  saying  that 
they  should  never  have  indicted  him  if  they  meant  to  let  him 
go.  For  he  will  certainly  obey  God  rather  than  man,  and  will 
continue  to  preach  to  all  men  of  all  ages  the  necessity  of  virtue 
and  improvement;  and  if  they  refuse  to  listen  to  him  he  will 
still  persevere  and  reprove  them.  This  is  his  way  of  corrupting 
the  youth,  which  he  will  not  cease  to  follow  in  obedience  to  the 
God,  even  if  a  thousand  deaths  await  him. 

He  is  desirous  that  they  should  not  put  him  to  death — not 
for  his  own  sake,  but  for  theirs;  because  he  is  their  heaven- 
sent friend  (and  they  will  never  have  such  another),  or,  as 
he  may  be  ludicrously  described,  the  gadfly  who  stirs  the  gen- 
erous steed  into  motion.  Why,  then,  has  he  never  taken  part 
in  public  affairs?  Because  the  familiar  divine  voice  has 
hindered  him;  if  he  had  been  a  public  man  and  fought  for 
the  right,  as  he  would  certainly  have  fought  against  the  many, 
he  would  not  have  lived,  and  could  therefore  have  done  no 
good.  Twice  in  public  matters  he  has  risked  his  life  for  the 
sake  of  justice — once  at  the  trial  of  the  generals;  and  again 
in  resistance  to  the  tyrannical  commands  of  the  Thirty. 

But,  though  not  a  public  man,  he  has  passed  his  days  in 
instructing  the  citizens  without  fee  or  reward ;  this  was  his 
mission.  Whether  his  disciples  have  turned  out  well  or  ill,  he 
cannot  justly  be  charged  with  the  result,  for  he  never  promised 


6  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

to  teach  them  anything.  They  might  come  if  they  hked,  and 
they  might  stay  away  if  they  Hked :  and  they  did  come,  because 
they  found  an  amusement  in  hearing  the  pretenders  to  wisdom 
detected.  If  they  have  been  corrupted,  their  elder  relatives 
(if  not  themselves)  might  surely  appear  in  court  and  witness 
against  him,  and  there  is  an  opportunity  still  for  them  to  do 
this.  But  their  fathers  and  brothers  all  apear  in  court  (in- 
cluding "this  "  Plato),  to  witness  on  his  behalf;  and  if  their 
relatives  are  corrupted,  at  least  they  are  uncorrupted ;  "  and 
they  are  my  witnesses.  For  they  know  that  I  am  speaking  the 
truth,  and  that  Meletus  is  lying." 

This  is  about  all  he  has  to  say.  He  will  not  entreat  the  judges 
to  spare  his  life ;  neither  will  he  present  a  spectacle  of  weeping 
children,  although  he,  too,  is  not  made  of  "  rock  or  oak."  Some 
of  the  judges  themselves  may  have  complied  with  this  practice 
on  similar  occasions,  and  he  trusts  that  they  will  not  be  angry 
with  him  for  not  following  their  example.  But  he  feels  that 
such  conduct  brings  discredit  on  the  name  of  Athens ;  he  feels, 
too,  that  the  judge  has  sworn  not  to  give  away  justice;  and 
he  cannot  be  guilty  of  the  impiety  of  asking  the  judge  to  for- 
swear himself,  when  he  is  himself  being  tried  for  impiety. 

As  he  expected,  and  probably  intended,  he  is  convicted.  And 
now  the  tone  of  the  speech,  instead  of  being  more  conciliatory, 
becomes  more  lofty  and  commanding.  Anytus  proposes  death 
as  the  penalty;  and  Nvhat  counter  proposition  shall  he  make? 
He,  the  benefactor  of  the  Athenian  people,  whose  whole  life 
has  been  spent  in  doing  them  good,  should  at  least  have  the 
Olympic  victor's  reward  of  maintenance  in  the  Prytaneum. 
Or  why  should  he  propose  any  counter  penalty  when  he  does 
not  know  whether  death,  which  Anytus  proposes,  is  a  good  or 
an  evil?  and  he  is  certain  that  imprisonment  is  an  evil,  exile 
is  an  evil.  Loss  of  money  might  be  no  evil,  but  then  he  has 
none  to  give ;  perhaps  he  can  make  up  a  mina.  Let  that  then 
be  the  penalty,  or,  if  his  friends  wish,  thirty  minae;  for  this 
they  will  be  excellent  securities. 

[He  is  condemned  to  death.] 

He  is  an  old  man  already,  and  the  Athenians  will  gain  noth- 
ing but  disgrace  by  depriving  him  of  a  few  years  of  life.  Per- 
haps he  could  have  escaped,  if  he  had  chosen  to  throw  down 
his  arms  and  entreat  for  his  life.    But  he  does  not  at  all  repent 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  APOLOGY  7 

of  the  manner  of  his  defence ;  he  would  rather  die  in  his  own 
fashion  than  live  in  theirs.  For  the  penalty  of  unrighteousness 
is  swifter  than  death,  and  that  has  already  overtaken  his  ac- 
cusers as  death  will  soon  overtake  him. 

And  now,  as  one  who  is  about  to  die,  he  will  prophesy  to 
them.  They  have  put  him  to  death  in  order  to  escape  the 
necessity  of  giving  an  account  of  their  lives.  But  his  death 
"  will  be  the  seed  "  of  many  disciples  who  will  convict  them 
of  their  evil  ways,  and  will  come  forth  to  reprove  them  in 
harsher  terms,  because  they  are  younger  and  more  incon- 
siderate. 

He  would  like  to  say  a  few  words,  while  there  is  time,  to 
those  who  would  have  acquitted  him.  He  wishes  them  to 
know  that  the  divine  sign  never  interrupted  him  in  the  course 
of  his  defence ;  the  reason  of  which,  as  he  conjectures,  is  that 
the  death  to  which  he  is  going  is  a  good  and  not  an  evil.  For 
either  death  is  a  long  sleep,  the  best  of  sleeps,  or  a  journey 
to  another  world  in  which  the  souls  of  the  death  are  gathered 
together,  and  in  which  there  may  be  a  hope  of  seeing  the 
heroes  of  old — in  which,  too,  there  are  just  judges ;  and  as  all 
are  immortal,  there  can  be  no  fear  of  anyone  being  put  to 
death  for  his  opinions. 

Nothing  evil  can  happen  to  the  good  man  either  in  life  or 
death,  and  his  own  death  has  been  permitted  by  the  gods,  be- 
cause it  was  better  for  him  to  depart;  and  therefore  he  for- 
gives his  judges  because  they  have  done  him  no  harm,  although 
they  never  meant  to  do  him  any  good. 

He  has  a  last  request  to  make  to  them — that  they  will  trouble 
his  sons  as  he  has  troubled  them,  if  they  appear  to  prefer  riches 
to  virtue,  or  think  themselves  something  when  they  are  nothing. 


"  Few  persons  will  be  found  to  wish  that  Socrates  should 
have  defended  himself  otherwise  " — if,  as  we  must  add,  his 
defence  was  that  with  which  Plato  has  provided  him.  But 
leaving  this  question,  which  does  not  admit  of  a  precise  solu- 
tion, we  may  go  on  to  ask  what  was  the  impression  which  Plato 
in  the  "  Apology  "  intended  to  leave  of  the  character  and  con- 
duct of  his  master  in  the  last  great  scene?  Did  he  intend  to 
represent  him  (i)  as  employing  sophistries?  (2)  as  de- 
signedly irritating  the  judges?    Or  are  these  sophistries  to  be 


8  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

regarded  as  belonging  to  the  age  in  which  he  lived  and  to  his 
personal  character,  and  this  apparent  haughtiness  as  flowing 
from  the  natural  elevation  of  his  position? 

For  example,  when  he  says  that  it  is  absurd  to  suppose  that 
one  man  is  the  corrupter  and  all  the  rest  of  the  world  the 
improvers  of  the  youth;  or,  when  he  argues  that  he  never 
could  have  corrupted  the  men  with  whom  he  had  to  live;  or, 
when  he  proves  his  belief  in  the  gods  because  he  believes  in  the 
sons  of  gods,  is  he  serious  or  jesting?  It  may  be  observed  that 
these  sophisms  all  occur  in  his  cross-examination  of  Meletus, 
who  is  easily  foiled  and  mastered  in  the  hands  of  the  great 
dialectician.  Perhaps  he  regarded  these  answers  as  all  of  them 
good  enough  for  his  accuser  (he  makes  very  light  of  him 
throughout).  Also  it  may  be  noted  that  there  is  a  touch  of 
irony  in  all  of  them,  which  takes  them  out  of  the  category  of 
sophistry. 

That  the  manner  in  which  he  defends  himself  about  the 
lives  of  his  disciples  is  not  satisfactory,  can  hardly  be  denied. 
Fresh  in  the  memory  of  the  Athenians,  and  detestable  as  they 
deserved  to  be  to  the  newly  restored  democracy,  were  the 
names  of  Alcibiades,  Critias,  Charmides.  It  is  obviously  not 
a  sufficient  answer  that  Socrates  had  never  professed  to  teach 
them  anything,  and  is  therefore  not  justly  chargeable  with  their 
crimes.  Yet  the  defence,  when  taken  out  of  this  ironical  form, 
is  doubtless  sound :  that  his  teaching  had  nothing  to  do  with 
their  evil  lives.  Here,  then,  the  sophistry  is  rather  in  form 
than  in  substance,  though  we  might  desire  that  to  such  a 
serious  charge  Socrates  had  given  a  more  serious  answer. 

Truly  characteristic  of  Socrates  is  another  point  in  his  an- 
swer, which  may  also  be  regarded  as  sophistical.  He  says  that 
"  if  he  has  corrupted  the  youth,  he  must  have  corrupted  them 
involuntarily."  In  these  words  the  Socratic  doctrine  of  the 
involuntariness  of  evil  is  clearly  intended  to  be  conveyed.  But 
if,  as  Socrates  argues,  all  evil  is  involuntary,  then  all  criminals 
ought  to  be  admonished  and  not  punished.  Here  again,  as  in 
the  former  instance,  the  defence  of  Socrates,  which  is  untrue 
practically,  may  yet  be  true  in  some  ideal  or  transcendental 
sense.  The  commonplace  reply,  that  if  he  had  been  guilty  of 
corrupting  the  youth,  their  relations  would  surely  have  wit- 
nessed against  him,  with  which  he  concludes  this  part  of  his 
defence,  is  more  satisfactory. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  APOLOGY  9 

Again,  when  Socrates  argues  that  he  must  believe  in  the 
gods  because  he  beheves  in  the  sons  of  gods,  we  must  remem- 
ber that  this  is  a  refutation  not  of  the  original  indictment,  which 
is  consistent  enough — "  Socrates  does  not  receive  the  gods 
whom  the  city  receives,  and  has  other  new  divinities  " — but  of 
the  interpretation  put  upon  the  words  by  Meletus,  who  has 
affirmed  that  he  is  a  downright  atheist.  To  this  Socrates  fairly 
answers,  in  accordance  with  the  ideas  of  the  time,  that  a 
downright  atheist  cannot  believe  in  the  sons  of  gods  or  in  divine 
things.  The  notion  that  demons  or  lesser  divinities  are  the 
sons  of  gods  is  not  to  be  regarded  as  ironical  or  sceptical.  But 
the  love  of  argument  may  certainly  have  led  Plato  to  relapse 
into  the  mythological  point  of  view,  and  prevented  him  from 
observing  that  the  reasoning  is  only  formally  correct. 

The  second  question,  whether  Plato  meant  to  represent 
Socrates  as  needlessly  braving  or  irritating  his  judges,  must 
also  be  answered  in  the  negative.  His  irony,  his  superiority, 
his  audacity,  "  regarding  not  the  person  of  man,"  necessarily 
flow  out  of  the  loftiness  of  his  situation.  He  is  not  acting  a 
part  upon  a  great  occasion,  but  he  is  what  he  has  been  all  his 
life  long,  "  a  king  of  men."  He  would  rather  not  appear  in- 
solent, if  he  could  avoid  this.  He  is  not  desirous  of  hastening 
his  own  end,  for  life  and  death  are  simply  indifferent  to  him. 
But  neither  will  he  say  or  do  anything  which  might  avert  the 
penalty ;  he  cannot  have  his  tongue  bound,  even  in  the  "throat 
of  death  " :  his  natural  character  must  appear.  He  is  quite 
willing  to  make  his  defence  to  posterity  and  to  the  world,  for 
that  is  a  true  defence.  But  such  a  defence  as  would  be  accept- 
able to  his  judges  and  might  procure  an  acquittal,  it  is  not  in 
his  nature  to  make.  With  his  actual  accusers  he  will  only 
fence  and  play.  The  singularity  of  the  mission  which  he 
ascribes  to  himself  is  a  great  reason  for  believing  that  he 
is  serious  in  his  account  of  the  motives  which  actuated  him. 
The  dedication  of  his  life  to  the  improvement  of  his  fellow- 
citizens  is  not  so  remarkable  as  the  ironical  spirit  in  which 
he  goes  about  doing  good  to  all  men  only  in  vindication  of  the 
credit  of  the  oracle,  and  in  the  vain  hope  of  finding  a  wiser 
man  than  himself.  Yet  this  singular  and  almost  accidental 
character  of  his  mission  agrees  with  the  divine  sign  which, 
according  to  our  notions,  is  equally  accidental  and  irrational, 
and  is  nevertheless  accepted  by  him  as  the  gliding  principle 


to  DIALOGUES  OF   PLATO 

in  his  life.  Nor  must  we  forget  that  Socrates  is  nowhere 
represented  to  us  as  a  freethinker  or  sceptic.  There  is  no 
reason  whatever  to  doubt  his  sincerity  when  he  imphes  his 
beHef  in  the  divinity  of  the  sun  and  moon,  or  when  he  specu- 
lates on  the  possibility  of  seeing  and  knowing  the  heroes  of 
the  Trojan  War  in  another  world.  On  the  other  hand,  his 
hope  of  immortality  is  uncertain ;  he  also  conceives  of  death 
as  a  long  sleep  (in  this  respect  differing  from  the  "  Phaedo  "), 
and  at  last  falls  back  on  resignation  to  the  divine  will,  and 
the  certainty  that  no  evil  can  happen  to  the  good  man  either 
in  life  or  death.  His  absolute  truthfulness  seems  to  hinder 
him  from  asserting  positively  more  than  this.  The  irony  of 
Socrates  is  not  a  mask  which  he  puts  on  at  will,  but  flows 
necessarily  out  of  his  character  and  out  of  his  relation  to 
mankind.  This,  which  is  true  of  him  generally,  is  especially 
true  of  the  last  memorable  act,  in  which  his  life  is  summed  up. 
Such  irony  is  not  impaired  but  greatly  heightened  by  a  sort  of 
natural  simplicity. 

It  has  been  remarked  that  the  prophecy  at  the  end,  of  a  new 
generation  of  teachers  who  would  rebuke  and  exhort  the  Athen- 
ian people  in  harsher  and  more  violent  terms,  as  far  as  we 
know  was  never  fulfilled.  No  inference  can  be  drawn  from 
this  circumstance  as  to  the  probability  of  their  having  been 
actually  uttered.  They  express  the  aspiration  of  the  first  mar- 
tyr of  philosophy,  that  he  would  leave  behind  him  many  fol- 
lowers, accompanied  by  the  not  unnatural  feeling  that  they 
would  be  fiercer  and  more  inconsiderate  in  their  words  when 
emancipated  from  his  control. 

The  above  remarks  must  be  understood  as  applying  with  any 
degree  of  certainty  to  the  Platonic  Socrates  only.  For,  how- 
ever probable  it  may  be  that  these  or  similar  words  may  have 
been  spoken  by  Socrates  himself,  we  cannot  exclude  the  pos- 
sibility that  like  so  much  else,  e.g.  the  wisdom  of  Critias,  the 
poem  of  Solon,  the  virtues  of  Charmides,  they  may  have  been 
due  only  to  the  imagination  of  Plato. 


SOCRA  TES. 
Photogravure  from  a  bust  in  the  l^illa  /4lbani. 


THE  APOLOGY  OF  SOCRATES 

HOW  you  have  felt,  O  men  of  Athens,  at  hearing  the 
speeches  of  my  accusers,  I  cannot  tell;  but  I  know 
that  their  persuasive  words  almost  made  me  forget 
who  I  was,  such  was  the  effect  of  them;  and  yet  they  have 
hardly  spoken  a  word  of  truth.  But  many  as  their  falsehoods 
were,  there  was  one  of  them  which  quite  amazed  me:  I  mean 
when  they  told  you  to  be  upon  your  guard,  and  not  to  let 
yourself  be  deceived  by  the  force  of  my  eloquence.  They 
ought  to  have  been  ashamed  of  saying  this,  because  they  were 
sure  to  be  detected  as  soon  as  I  opened  my  lips  and  displayed 
my  deficiency;  they  certainly  did  appear  to  be  most  shameless 
in  saying  this,  unless  by  the  force  of  eloquence  they  mean 
the  force  of  truth ;  for  then  I  do  indeed  admit  that  I  am  elo- 
quent. But  in  how  different  a  way  from  theirs!  Well,  as  I 
was  saying,  they  have  hardly  uttered  a  word,  or  not  more  than 
a  word,  of  truth ;  but  you  shall  hear  from  me  the  whole  truth : 
not,  however,  delivered  after  their  manner,  in  a  set  oration 
duly  ornamented  with  words  and  phrases.  No,  indeed!  but 
I  shall  use  the  words  and  arguments  which  occur  to  me  at 
the  moment ;  for  I  am  certain  that  this  is  right,  and  that  at 
my  time  of  life  I  ought  not  to  be  appearing  before  you,  O 
men  of  Athens,  in  the  character  of  a  juvenile  orator:  let  no 
one  expect  this  of  me.  And  I  must  beg  of  you  to  grant  me 
one  favor,  which  is  this — if  you  hear  me  using  the  same  words 
in  my  defence  which  I  have  been  in  the  habit  of  using,  and 
which  most  of  you  may  haVe  heard  in  the  agora,  and  at  the 
tables  of  the  money-changers,  or  anywhere  else,  I  would  ask 
you  not  to  be  surprised  at  this,  and  not  to  interrupt  me.  For 
I  am  more  than  seventy  years  of  age,  and  this  is  the  first  time 
that  I  have  ever  appeared  in  a  court  of  law,  and  I  am  quite 
a  stranger  to  the  ways  of  the  place ;  and  therefore  I  would  have 
you  regard  me  as  if  I  were  really  a  stranger,  whom  you 

II 


12  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

would  excuse  if  he  spoke  in  his  native  tongue,  and  after  the 
fashion  of  his  country:  that  I  think  is  not  an  unfair  request. 
Never  mind  the  manner,  which  may  or  may  not  be  good ;  but 
think  only  of  the  justice  of  my  cause,  and  give  heed  to  that: 
let  the  judge  decide  justly  and  the  speaker  speak  truly. 

And  first,  I  have  to  reply  to  the  older  charges  and  to  my 
first  accusers,  and  then  I  will  go  on  to  the  later  ones.  For 
I  have  had  many  accusers,  who  accused  me  of  old,  and  their 
false  charges  have  continued  during  many  years ;  and  I  am 
more  afraid  of  them  than  of  Anytus  and  his  associates,  who 
are  dangerous,  too,  in  their  own  way.  But  far  more  danger- 
ous are  these,  who  began  when  you  were  children,  and  took 
possession  of  your  minds  with  their  falsehoods,  telling  of  one 
Socrates,  a  wise  man,  who  speculated  about  the  heaven  above, 
and  searched  into  the  earth  beneath,  and  made  the  worse 
appear  the  better  cause.  These  are  the  accusers  whom  I  dread ; 
for  they  are  the  circulators  of  this  rumor,  and  their  hearers 
are  too  apt  to  fancy  that  speculators  of  this  sort  do  not  believe 
in  the  gods.  And  they  are  many,  and  their  charges  against 
me  are  of  ancient  date,  and  they  made  them  in  days  when 
you  were  impressible — in  childhood,  or  perhaps  in  youth — • 
and  the  cause  when  heard  went  by  default,  for  there  was 
none  to  answer.  And,  hardest  of  all,  their  names  I  do  not 
know  and  cannot  tell ;  unless  in  the  chance  case  of  a  comic  poet. 
But  the  main  body  of  these  slanderers  who  from  envy  and 
malice  have  wrought  upon  you — and  there  are  some  of  them 
who  are  convinced  themselves,  and  impart  their  convictions  to 
others — all  these,  I  say,  are  most  difficult  to  deal  with;  for 
I  cannot  have  them  up  here,  and  examine  them,  and  therefore 
I  must  simply  fight  with  shadows  in  my  own  defence,  and  ex- 
amine when  there  is  no  one  who  answers.  I  will  ask  you  then 
to  assume  with  me,  as  I  was  saying,  that  my  opponents  are 
of  two  kinds — one  recent,  the  other  ancient ;  and  I  hope  that 
you  will  see  the  propriety  of  my  answering  the  latter  first, 
for  these  accusations  you  heard  long  before  the  others,  and 
much  oftener. 

Well,  then,  I  will  make  my  defence,  and  I  will  endeavor 
in  the  short  time  which  is  allowed  to  do  away  with  this  evil 
opinion  of  me  which  you  have  held  for  such  a  long  time ;  and 
I  hope  that  I  may  succeed,  if  this  be  well  for  you  and  me, 
and  that  my  words  may  find  favor  with  you.    But  I  know  that 


APOLOGY  13 

to  accomplish  this  is  not  easy — I  quite  see  the  nature  of  the 
task.  Let  the  event  be  as  God  wills:  in  obedience  to  the  law 
I  make  my  defence. 

I  will  begin  at  the  beginning,  and  ask  what  the  accusation 
is  which  has  given  rise  to  this  slander  of  me,  and  which  has 
encouraged  Meletus  to  proceed  against  me.  What  do  the 
slanderers  say?  They  shall  be  my  prosecutors,  and  I  will 
sum  up  their  words  in  an  affidavit :  "  Socrates  is  an  evil- 
doer, and  a  curious  person,  who  searches  into  things  under 
the  earth  and  in  heaven,  and  he  makes  the  worse  appear  the 
better  cause ;  and  he  teaches  the  aforesaid  doctrines  to  others." 
That  is  the  nature  of  the  accusation,  and  that  is  what  you  have 
seen  yourselves  in  the  comedy  of  Aristophanes,  who  has  in- 
troduced a  man  whom  he  calls  Socrates,  going  about  and  say- 
ing that  he  can  walk  in  the  air,  and  talking  a  deal  of  nonsense 
concerning  matters  of  which  I  do  not  pretend  to  know  either 
much  or  little — not  that  I  mean  to  say  anything  disparaging  of 
anyone  who  is  a  student  of  natural  philosophy.  I  should  be 
very  sorry  if  Meletus  could  lay  that  to  my  charge.  But  the 
simple  truth  is,  O  Athenians,  that  I  have  nothing  to  do  with 
these  studies.  Very  many  of  those  here  present  are  witnesses 
to  the  truth  of  this,  and  to  them  I  appeal.  Speak  then,  you  who 
have  heard  me,  and  tell  your  neighbors  whether  any  of  you 
have  ever  known  me  hold  forth  in  few  words  or  in  many  upon 
matters  of  this  sort.  .  .  .  You  hear  their  answer.  And 
from  what  they  say  of  this  you  will  be  able  to  judge  of  the 
truth  of  the  rest. 

As  little  foundation  is  there  for  the  report  that  I  am  a 
teacher,  and  take  money;  that  is  no  more  true  than  the  other. 
Although,  if  a  man  is  able  to  teach,  I  honor  him  for  being  paid. 
There  is  Gorgias  of  Leontium,  and  Prodicus  of  Ceos,  and 
Hippias  of  Elis,  who  go  the  round  of  the  cities,  and  are  able 
to  persuade  the  young  men  to  leave  their  own  citizens,  by 
whom  they  might  be  taught  for  nothing,  and  come  to  them, 
whom  they  not  only  pay,  but  are  thankful  if  they  may  be  al- 
lowed to  pay  them.  There  is  actually  a  Parian  philosopher  re- 
siding in  Athens,  of  whom  I  have  heard ;  and  I  came  to  hear  of 
him  in  this  way :  I  met  a  man  who  has  spent  a  world  of  money 
on  the  Sophists,  Callias  the  son  of  Hipponicus,  and  knowing 
that  he  had  sons,  I  asked  him :  "  Callias,"  I  said,  "  if  your  two 
sons  were  foals  or  calves,  there  would  be  no  difficulty  in  finding 


14  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

someone  to  put  over  them;  we  should  hire  a  trainer  of 
horses  or  a  farmer  probably  who  would  improve  and 
perfect  them  in  their  own  proper  virtue  and  excellence ; 
but  as  they  are  human  beings,  whom  are  you  thinking  of 
placing  over  them?  Is  there  anyone  who  understands  human 
and  political  virtue?  You  must  have  thought  about  this  as 
you  have  sons ;  is  there  anyone  ?  "  "  There  is,"  he  said.  "  Who 
is  he  ? "  said  I,  "  and  of  what  country  ?  and  what  does  he 
charge  ?  "  "  Evenus  the  Parian,"  he  replied ;  "  he  is  the  man, 
and  his  charge  is  five  minae."  Happy  is  Evenus,  I  said  to 
myself,  if  he  really  has  this  wisdom,  and  teaches  at  such  a 
modest  charge.  Had  I  the  same,  I  should  have  been  very 
proud  and  conceited  ;  but  the  truth  is  that  I  have  no  knowledge 
of  the  kind,  O  Athenians. 

I  dare  say  that  some  one  will  ask  the  question,  "  Why  is 
this,  Socrates,  and  what  is  the  origin  of  these  accusations  of 
you:  for  there  must  have  been  something  strange  which  you 
have  been  doing?  All  this  great  fame  and  talk  about  you 
would  never  have  arisen  if  you  had  been  like  other  men :  tell 
us,  then,  why  this  is,  as  we  should  be  sorry  to  judge  hastily 
of  you."  Now  I  regard  this  as  a  fair  challenge,  and  I  will 
endeavor  to  explain  to  you  the  origin  of  this  name  of  "  wise," 
and  of  this  evil  fame.  Please  to  attend  them.  And  although 
some  of  you  may  think  that  I  am  joking,  I  declare  that  I  will 
tell  you  the  entire  truth.  Men  of  Athens,  this  reputation  of 
mine  has  come  of  a  certain  sort  of  wisdom  which  I  possess. 
If  you  ask  me  what  kind  of  wisdom,  I  reply,  such  wisdom 
as  is  attainable  by  man,  for  to  that  extent  I  am  inclined  to 
believe  that  I  am  wise;  whereas  the  persons  of  whom  I  was 
speaking  have  a  superhuman  wisdom,  which  I  may  fail  to 
describe,  because  I  have  it  not  myself;  and  he  who  says  that 
I  have,  speaks  falsely,  and  is  taking  away  my  character.  And 
here,  O  men  of  Athens,  I  must  beg  you  not  to  interrupt  me, 
even  if  I  seem  to  say  something  extravagant.  For  the  word 
which  I  will  speak  is  not  mine.  I  will  refer  you  to  a  witness 
who  is  worthy  of  credit,  and  will  tell  you  about  my  wisdom — 
whether  I  have  any,  and  of  what  sort — and  that  witness  shall 
be  the  god  of  Delphi.  You  must  have  known  Chaerephon; 
he  was  early  a  friend  of  mine,  and  also  a  friend  of  yours,  for 
he  shared  in  the  exile  of  the  people,  and  returned  with  you. 
Well,  Chaerephon,  as  you  know,  was  very  impetuous  in  all  his 


APOLOGY  15 

doings,  and  he  went  to  Delphi  and  boldly  asked  the  oracle 
to  tell  him  whether — as  I  was  saying,  I  must  beg  you  not  to 
interrupt — he  asked  the  oracle  to  tell  him  whether  there  was 
anyone  wiser  than  I  was,  and  the  Pythian  prophetess  an- 
swered that  there  was  no  man  wiser.  Chaerephon  is  dead 
himself,  but  his  brother,  who  is  in  court,  will  confirm  the 
truth  of  this  story. 

Why  do  I  mention  this?  Because  I  am  going  to  explain 
to  you  why  I  have  such  an  evil  name.  When  I  heard  the 
answer,  I  said  to  myself,  What  can  the  god  mean?  and  what 
is  the  interpretation  of  this  riddle  ?  for  I  know  that  I  have  no 
wisdom,  small  or  great.  What  can  he  mean  when  he  says 
that  I  am  the  wisest  of  men?  And  yet  he  is  a  god  and  can- 
not lie ;  that  would  be  against  his  nature.  After  a  long  con- 
sideration, I  at  last  thought  of  a  method  of  trying  the  ques- 
tion. I  reflected  that  if  I  could  only  find  a  man  wiser 
than  myself,  then  I  might  go  to  the  god  with  a  refutation  in 
my  hand.  I  should  say  to  him,  "  Here  is  a  man  who  is  wiser 
than  I  am ;  but  you  said  that  I  was  the  wisest."  Accordingly 
I  went  to  one  who  had  the  reputation  of  wisdom,  and  observed 
to  him — his  name  I  need  not  mention ;  he  was  a  politician 
whom  I  selected  for  examination — and  the  result  was  as  fol- 
lows :  When  I  began  to  talk  with  him,  I  could  not  help  think- 
ing that  he  was  not  really  wise,  although  he  was  thought  wise 
by  many,  and  wiser  still  by  himself;  and  I  went  and  tried 
to  explain  to  him  that  he  thought  himself  wise,  but  was  not 
really  wise;  and  the  consequence  was  that  he  hated  me,  and 
his  enmity  was  shared  by  several  who  were  present  and  heard 
me.  So  I  left  him,  saying  to  myself,  as  I  went  away:  Well, 
although  I  do  not  suppose  that  either  of  us  knows  anything 
really  beautiful  and  good,  I  am  better  off  than  he  is — for  he 
knows  nothing,  and  thinks  that  he  knows.  I  neither  know 
nor  think  that  I  know.  In  this  latter  particular,  then,  I  seem 
to  have  slightly  the  advantage  of  him.  Then  I  went  to  an- 
other, who  had  still  higher  philosophical  pretensions,  and  my 
conclusion  was  exactly  the  same.  I  made  another  enemy  of 
him,  and  of  many  others  besides  him. 

After  this  I  went  to  one  man  after  another,  being  not  un- 
conscious of  the  enmity  which  I  provoked,  and  I  lamented  and 
feared  this:  but  necessity  was  laid  upon  me — the  word  of 
God,  I  thought,  ought  to  be  considered  first.    And  I  said  to 


i6  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

myself,  Go  I  must  to  all  who  appear  to  know,  and  find  out 
the  meaning  of  the  oracle.  And  I  swear  to  you,  Athenians, 
by  the  dog  I  swear ! — for  I  must  tell  you  the  truth — the  result 
of  my  mission  was  just  this:  I  found  that  the  men  most  in 
repute  were  all  but  the  most  foolish;  and  that  some  inferior 
men  were  really  wiser  and  better.  I  will  tell  you  the  tale  of 
my  wanderings  and  of  the  "  Herculean "  labors,  as  I  may 
call  them,  which  I  endured  only  to  find  at  last  the  oracle 
irrefutable.  When  I  left  the  politicians,  I  went  to  the  poets; 
tragic,  dithyrambic,  and  all  sorts.  And  there,  I  said  to  my- 
self, you  will  be  detected ;  now  you  will  find  out  that  you  are 
more  ignorant  than  they  are.  Accordingly,  I  took  them  some 
of  the  most  elaborate  passages  in  their  own  writings,  and 
asked  what  was  the  meaning  of  them — thinking  that  they 
would  teach  me  something.  Will  you  believe  me?  I  am 
almost  ashamed  to  speak  of  this,  but  still  I  must  say  that  there 
is  hardly  a  person  present  who  would  not  have  talked  better 
about  their  poetry  than  they  did  themselves.  That  showed 
me  in  an  instant  that  not  by  wisdom  do  poets  write  poetry, 
but  by  a  sort  of  genius  and  inspiration ;  they  are  like  diviners 
or  soothsayers  who  also  say  many  fine  things,  but  do  not  un- 
derstand the  meaning  of  them.  And  the  poets  appeared  to  me 
to  be  much  in  the  same  case;  and  I  further  observed  that 
upon  the  strength  of  their  poetry  they  believed  themselves  to 
be  the  wisest  of  men  in  other  things  in  which  they  were  not 
wise.  So  I  departed,  conceiving  myself  to  be  superior  to  them 
for  the  same  reason  that  I  was  superior  to  the  politicians. 

At  last  I  went  to  the  artisans,  for  I  was  conscious  that  I 
knew  nothing  at  all,  as  I  may  say,  and  I  was  sure  that  they 
knew  many  fine  things;  and  in  this  I  was  not  mistaken,  for 
they  did  know  many  things  of  which  I  was  ignorant,  and  in 
this  they  certainly  were  wiser  than  I  was.  But  I  observed 
that  even  the  good  artisans  fell  into  the  same  error  as  the 
poets;  because  they  were  good  workmen  they  thought  that 
they  also  knew  all  sorts  of  high  matters,  and  this  defect  in 
them  overshadowed  their  wisdom — therefore  I  asked  myself 
on  behalf  of  the  oracle,  whether  I  would  like  to  be  as  I  was, 
neither  having  their  knowledge  nor  their  ignorance,  or  like 
them  in  both;  and  I  made  answer  to  myself  and  the  oracle 
that  I  was  better  off  as  I  was. 

This  investigation  has  led  to  my  having  many  enemies  pf 


APOLOGY  X.7 

the  worst  and  most  dangerous  kind,  and  has  given  occasion 
also  to  many  calumnies.  And  I  am  called  wise,  for  my  hearers 
always  imagine  that  I  myself  possess  the  wisdom  which  I 
find  wanting  in  others :  but  the  truth  is,  O  men  of  Athens, 
that  God  only  is  wise;  and  in  this  oracle  he  means  to  say 
that  the  wisdom  of  men  is  little  or  nothing ;  he  is  not  speaking 
of  Socrates,  he  is  only  using  my  name  as  an  illustration,  as 
if  he  said,  He,  O  men,  is  the  wisest,  who,  like  Socrates,  knows 
that  his  wisdom  is  in  truth  worth  nothing.  And  so  I  go  my 
way,  obedient  to  the  god,  and  make  inquisition  into  the  wis- 
dom of  anyone,  whether  citizen  or  stranger,  who  appears  to 
be  wise;  and  if  he  is  not  wise,  then  in  vindication  of  the 
oracle  I  show  him  that  he  is  not  wise;  and  this  occupation 
quite  absorbs  me,  and  I  have  no  time  to  give  either  to  any 
public  matter  of  interest  or  to  any  concern  of  my  own,  but  I 
am  in  utter  poverty  by  reason  of  my  devotion  to  the  god. 

There  is  another  thing: — young  men  of  the  richer  classes, 
who  have  not  much  to  do,  come  about  me  of  their  own  accord ; 
they  like  to  hear  the  pretenders  examined,  and  they  often 
imitate  me,  and  examine  others  themselves ;  there  are  plenty 
of  persons,  as  they  soon  enough  discover,  who  think  that  they 
know  something,  but  really  know  little  or  nothing:  and  then 
those  who  are  examined  by  them  instead  of  being  angry  with 
themselves  are  angry  with  me:  This  confounded  Socrates, 
they  say ;  this  villanous  misleader  of  youth ! — and  then  if 
somebody  asks  them.  Why,  what  evil  does  he  practise  or 
teach  ?  they  do  not  know,  and  cannot  tell ;  but  in  order  that 
they  may  not  appear  to  be  at  a  loss,  they  repeat  the  ready- 
made  charges  which  are  used  against  all  philosophers  about 
teaching  things  up  in  the  clouds  and  under  the  earth,  and 
having  no  gods,  and  making  the  worse  appear  the  better  cause ; 
for  they  do  not  like  to  confess  that  their  pretence  of  knowl- 
edge has  been  detected — which  is  the  truth:  and  as  they  are 
numerous  and  ambitious  and  energetic,  and  are  all  in  battle 
array  and  have  persuasive  tongues,  they  have  filled  your  ears 
with  their  loud  and  inveterate  calumnies.  And  this  is  the 
reason  why  my  three  accusers,  Meletus  and  Anytus  and  Lycon, 
have  set  upon  me:  Meletus,  who  has  a  quarrel  with  me  on 
behalf  of  the  poets;  Anytus,  on  behalf  of  the  craftsmen; 
Lycon,  on  behalf  of  the  rhetoricians:  and  as  I  said  at  the 
beginning,  I  cannot  expect  to  get  rid  of  this  mass  of  calumny 


l8  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

all  in  a  moment.  And  this,  O  men  of  Athens,  is  the  truth 
and  the  whole  truth;  I  have  concealed  nothing,  I  have  di§^ 
sembled  nothing.  And  yet  I  know  that  this  plainness  of  speech 
makes  them  hate  me,  and  what  is  their  hatred  but  a  proof 
that  I  am  speaking  the  truth? — this  is  the  occasion  and  rea- 
son of  their  slander  of  me,  as  you  will  find  out  either  in  this 
or  in  any  future  inquiry. 

I  have  said  enough  in  my  defence  against  the  first  class  of 
my  accusers ;  I  turn  to  the  second  class,  who  are  headed  by 
Meletus,  that  good  and  patriotic  man,  as  he  calls  himself. 
And  now  I  will  try  to  defend  myself  against  them:  these 
new  accusers  must  also  have  their  affidavit  read.  What  do 
they  say?  Something  of  this  sort:  That  Socrates  is  a  doer 
of  evil,  and  corrupter  of  the  youth,  and  he  does  not  believe 
in  the  gods  of  the  State,  and  has  other  new  divinities  of  his 
own.  That  is  the  sort  of  charge ;  and  now  let  us  examine  the 
particular  counts.  He  says  that  I  am  a  doer  of  evil,  who 
corrupt  the  youth ;  but  I  say,  O  men  of  Athens,  that  Meletus 
is  a  doer  of  evil,  and  the  evil  is  that  he  makes  a  joke  of  a 
serious  matter,  and  is  too  ready  at  bringing  other  men  to  trial 
from  a  pretended  zeal  and  interest  about  matters  in  which 
he  really  never  had  the  smallest  interest.  And  the  truth  of  this 
I  will  endeavor  to  prove. 

Come  hither,  Meletus,  and  let  me  ask  a  question  of  you. 
You  think  a  great  deal  about  the  improvement  of  youth  ? 

Yes,  I  do. 

Tell  the  judges,  then,  who  is  their  improver;  for  you  must 
know,  as  you  have  taken  the  pains  to  discover  their  corrupter, 
and  are  citing  and  accusing  me  before  them.  Speak,  then, 
and  tell  the  judges  who  their  improver  is.  Observe,  Meletus, 
that  you  are  silent,  and  have  nothing  to  say.  But  is  not  this 
rather  disgraceful,  and  a  very  considerable  proof  of  what  I 
was  saying,  that  you  have  no  interest  in  the  matter?  Speak 
up,  friend,  and  tell  us  who  their  improver  is. 

The  laws. 

But  that,  my  good  sir,  is  not  my  meaning.  I  want  to  know 
who  the  person  is,  who,  in  the  first  place,  knows  the  laws. 

The  judges,  Socrates,  who  are  present  in  court. 

What  do  you  mean  to  say,  Meletus,  that  they  are  able  to 
instruct  and  improve  youth? 

Certainly  they  are. 


APOLOGY 


19 


What,  all  of  them,  or  some  only  and  not  others? 

All  of  them. 

By  the  goddess  Here,  that  is  good  news !  There  are  plenty 
of  improvers,  then.  And  what  do  you  say  of  the  audience — 
do  they  improve  them? 

Yes,  they  do. 

And  the  Senators? 

Yes,  the  Senators  improve  them. 

But  perhaps  the  ecclesiasts  corrupt  them? — or  do  they  too 
improve  them? 

They  improve  them. 

Then  every  Athenian  improves  and  elevates  them;  all  with 
the  exception  of  myself;  and  I  alone  am  their  corrupter?  Is 
that  what  you  affirm  ? 

That  is  what  I  stoutly  affirm. 

I  am  very  unfortunate  if  that  is  true.  But  suppose  I  ask 
you  a  question :  Would  you  say  that  this  also  holds  true  in 
the  case  of  horses?  Does  one  man  do  them  harm  and  all 
the  world  good  ?  Is  not  the  exact  opposite  of  this  true  ?  One 
man  is  able  to  do  them  good,  or  at  least  not  many ;  the  trainer 
of  horses,  that  is  to  say,  does  them  good,  and  others  who  have 
to  do  with  them  rather  injure  them?  Is  not  that  true,  Meletus, 
of  horses,  or  any  other  animals?  Yes,  certainly.  Whether 
you  and  Anytus  say  yes  or  no,  that  is  no  matter.  Happy 
indeed  would  be  the  condition  of  youth  if  they  had  one  cor- 
rupter only,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  world  were  their  improvers. 
And  you,  Meletus,  have  sufficiently  shown  that  you  never 
had  a  thought  about  the  young:  your  carelessness  is  seen 
in  your  not  caring  about  the  matters  spoken  of  m  this  very 
indictment. 

And  now,  Meletus,  I  must  ask  you  another  question :  Which 
is  better,  to  live  among  bad  citizens,  or  among  good  ones? 
Answer,  friend,  I  say;  for  that  is  a  question  which  may  be 
easily  answered.  Do  not  the  good  do  their  neighbors  good, 
and  the  bad  do  them  evil? 

Certainly. 

And  is  there  anyone  who  would  rather  be  injured  than  bene- 
fited by  those  who  live  with  him?  Answer,  my  good  friend; 
the  law  requires  you  to  answer — does  anyone  like  to  be  in- 
jured ? 

Certainly  not. 


80  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

And  when  you  accuse  me  of  corrupting  and  deteriorating 
the  youth,  do  you  allege  that  I  corrupt  them  intentionally  or 
unintentionally  ? 

Intentionally,  I  say. 

But  you  have  just  admitted  that  the  good  do  their  neigh- 
bors good,  and  the  evil  do  them  evil.  Now  is  that  a  truth 
which  your  superior  wisdom  has  recognized  thus  early  in  life, 
and  am  I,  at  my  age,  in  such  darkness  and  ignorance  as  not 
to  know  that  if  a  man  with  whom  I  have  to  live  is  corrupted 
by  me,  I  am  very  likely  to  be  harmed  by  him,  and  yet  I  cor- 
rupt him,  and  intentionally,  too?  that  is  what  you  are  saying, 
and  of  that  you  will  never  persuade  me  or  any  other  human 
being.  But  either  I  do  not  corrupt  them,  or  I  corrupt  them 
unintentionally,  so  that  on  either  view  of  the  case  you  lie. 
If  my  offense  is  unintentional,  the  law  has  no  cognizance  of 
unintentional  offenses :  you  ought  to  have  taken  me  privately, 
and  warned  and  admonished  me;  for  if  I  had  been  better 
advised,  I  should  have  left  off  doing  what  I  only  did  unin- 
tentionally— no  doubt  I  should;  whereas  you  hated  to  con- 
verse with  me  or  teach  me,  but  you  indicted  me  in  this  court, 
which  is  a  place,  not  of  instruction,  but  of  punishment. 

I  have  shown,  Athenians,  as  I  was  saying,  that  Meletus  has 
no  care  at  all,  great  or  small,  about  the  matter.  But  still  I 
should  like  to  know,  Meletus,  in  what  I  am  affirmed  to  corrupt 
the  young.  I  suppose  you  mean,  as  I  infer  from  your  indict- 
ment, that  I  teach  them  not  to  acknowledge  the  gods  which 
the  State  acknowledges,  but  some  other  new  divinities  or 
spiritual  agencies  in  their  stead.  These  are  the  lessons  which 
corrupt  the  youth,  as  you  say. 

Yes,  that  I  say  emphatically. 

Then,  by  the  gods,  Meletus,  of  whom  we  are  speaking,  tell 
me  and  the  court,  in  somewhat  plainer  terms,  what  you  mean ! 
for  I  do  not  as  yet  understand  whether  you  affirm  that  I  teach 
others  to  acknowledge  some  gods,  and  therefore  do  "believe 
in  gods  and  am  not  an  entire  atheist — this  you  do  not  lay 
to  my  charge ;  but  only  that  they  are  not  the  same  gods  which 
the  city  recognizes — the  charge  is  that  they  are  different  gods 
Or,  do  you  mean  to  say  that  I  am  an  atheist  simply,  and  a 
teacher  of  atheism? 

I  mean  the  latter — that  you  are  a  complete  atheist. 

That    is    an    extraordinary  statement,  Meletus.     Why  do 


APOLOGY  21 

you  say  that?  Do  you  mean  that  I  do  not  believe  in  the  god- 
head of  the  sun  or  moon,  which  is  the  common  creed  of  all  men  ? 

I  assure  you,  judges,  that  he  does  not  believe  in  them;  for 
he  says  that  the  sun  is  stone,  and  the  moon  earth. 

Friend  Meletus,  you  think  that  you  are  accusing  Anaxag- 
oras:  and  you  have  but  a  bad  opinion  of  the  judges,  if  you 
fancy  them  ignorant  to  such  a  degree  as  not  to  know  that 
those  doctrines  are  found  in  the  books  of  Anaxagoras  the 
Clazomenian,  who  is  full  of  them.  And  these  are  the  doc- 
trines which  the  youth  are  said  to  learn  of  Socrates,  when 
there  are  not  unfrequently  exhibitions  of  them  at  the  theatre* 
(price  of  admission  one  drachma  at  the  most)  ;  and  they  might 
cheaply  purchase  them,  and  laugh  at  Socrates  if  he  pretends 
to  father  such  eccentricities.  And  so,  Meletus,  you  really 
think  that  I  do  not  believe  in  any  god? 

I  swear  by  Zeus  that  you  believe  absolutely  in  none  at  all. 

You  are  a  liar,  Meletus,  not  believed  even  by  yourself.  For 
I  cannot  help  thinking,  O  men  of  Athens,  that  Meletus  is 
reckless  and  impudent,  and  that  he  has  written  this  indict- 
ment in  a  spirit  of  mere  wantonness  and  youthful  bravado. 
Has  he  not  compounded  a  riddle,  thinking  to  try  me?  He 
said  to  himself:  I  shall  see  whether  this  wise  Socrates  will 
discover  my  ingenious  contradiction,  or  whether  I  shall  be 
able  to  deceive  him  and  the  rest  of  them.  For  he  certainly 
does  appear  to  me  to  contradict  himself  in  the  indictment  as 
much  as  if  he  said  that  Socrates  is  guilty  of  not  believing 
in  the  gods,  and  yet  of  believing  in  them — but  this  surely  is  a 
piece  of  fun. 

I  should  like  you,  O  men  of  Athens,  to  join  me  in  examin- 
ing what  I  conceive  to  be  his  inconsistency;  and  do  you, 
Meletus,  answer.  And  I  must  remind  you  that  you  are  not 
to  interrupt  me  if  I  speak  in  my  accustomed  manner. 

Did  ever  man,  Meletus,  believe  in  the  existence  of  human 
things,  and  not  of  human  beings?  ...  I  wish,  men  of 
Athens,  that  he  would  answer,  and  not  be  always  trying  to 
get  up  an  interruption.  Did  ever  any  man  believe  in  horse- 
manship, and  not  in  horses?  or  in  flute-playing,  and  not  in 
flute-players?     No,  my  friend;    I  will  answer  to  you  and  to 

*  Probably  in  allusion  to  Aristophanes,  who  caricatured,  and  to  Euripi- 
des, who  borrowed,  the  notions  of  Anaxagoras,  as  well  as  to  other 
dramatic  poets. 


22  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

the  court,  as  you  refuse  to  answer  for  yourself.  There  is  no 
man  who  ever  did.  But  now  please  to  answer  the  next  ques- 
tion: Can  a  man  believe  in  spiritual  and  divine  agencies,  and 
not  in  spirits  or  demigods? 

He  cannot. 

I  am  glad  that  I  have  extracted  that  answer,  by  the  assist- 
ance of  the  court;  nevertheless  you  swear  in  the  indictment 
that  I  teach  and  believe  in  divine  or  spiritual  agencies  (new 
or  old,  no  matter  for  that)  ;  at  any  rate,  I  believe  in  spiritual 
agencies,  as  you  say  and  swear  in  the  affidavit ;  but  if  I 
believe  in  divine  beings,  I  must  believe  in  spirits  or  demigods ; 
is  not  that  true  ?  Yes,  that  is  true,  for  I  may  assume  that  your 
silence  gives  assent  to  that.  Now  what  are  spirits  or  demi- 
gods? are  they  not  either  gods  or  the  sons  of  gods?  Is  that 
true? 

Yes,  that  is  true. 

But  this  is  just  the  ingenious  riddle  of  which  I  was  speak- 
ing: the  demigods  or  spirits  are  gods,  and  you  say  first  that 
I  don't  believe  in  gods,  and  then  again  that  I  do  believe  in 
gods;  that  is,  if  I  believe  in  demigods.  For  if  the  demigods 
are  the  illegitimate  sons  of  gods,  whether  by  the  Nymphs  or 
by  any  other  mothers,  as  is  thought,  that,  as  all  men  will 
allow,  necessarily  implies  the  existence  of  their  parents.  You 
might  as  well  affirm  the  existence  of  mules,  and  deny  that  of 
horses  and  asses.  Such  nonsense,  Meletus,  could  only  have 
been  intended  by  you  as  a  trial  of  me.  You  have  put  this 
into  the  indictment  because  you  had  nothing  real  of  which  to 
accuse  me.  But  no  one  who  has  a  particle  of  understanding 
will  ever  be  convinced  by  you  that  the  same  man  can  believe 
in  divine  and  superhuman  things,  and  yet  not  believe  that 
there  are  gods  and  demigods  and  heroes. 

I  have  said  enough  in  answer  to  the  charge  of  Meletus: 
any  elaborate  defence  is  unnecessary ;  but  as  I  was  saying 
before,  I  certainly  have  many  enemies,  and  this  is  what  will 
be  my  destruction  if  I  am  destroyed ;  of  that  I  am  certain ; 
not  Meletus,  nor  yet  Anytus,  but  the  envy  and  detraction  of 
the  world,  which  has  been  the  death  of  many  good  men,  and 
will  probably  be  the  death  of  many  more ;  there  is  no  danger 
of  my  being  the  last  of  them. 

Someone  will  say :  And  are  you  not  ashamed,  Socrates,  of  a 
course  of  life  which  is  likely  to  bring  you  to  an  untimely  end  ? 


APOLOGY  23 

To  him  I  may  fairly  answer:  There  you  are  mistaken:  a 
man  who  is  good  for  anything  ought  not  to  calculate  the 
chance  of  living  or  dying ;  he  ought  only  to  consider  whether 
in  doing  anything  he  is  doing  right  or  wrong — acting  the 
part  of  a  good  man  or  of  a  bad.  Whereas,  according  to  your 
view,  the  heroes  who  fell  at  Troy  were  not  good  for  much, 
and  the  son  of  Thetis  above  all,  who  altogether  despised  danger 
in  comparison  with  disgrace;  and  when  his  goddess  mother 
said  to  him,  in  his  eagerness  to  slay  Hector,  that  if  he  avenged 
his  companion  Patroclus,  and  slew  Hector,  he  would  die 
himself — "  Fate,"  as  she  said,  "  waits  upon  you  next  after 
Hector  " ;  he,  hearing  this,  utterly  despised  danger  and  death, 
and  instead  of  fearing  them,  feared  rather  to  live  in  dishonor, 
and  not  to  avenge  his  friend.  "  Let  me  die  next,"  he  replies, 
"  and  be  avenged  of  my  enemy,  rather  than  abide  here  by 
the  beaked  ships,  a  scorn  and  a  burden  of  the  earth."  Had 
Achilles  any  thought  of  death  and  danger?  For  wherever 
a  man's  place  is,  whether  the  place  which  he  has  chosen  or 
that  in  which  he  has  been  placed  by  a  commander,  there  he 
ought  to  remain  in  the  hour  of  danger;  he  should  not  think 
of  death  or  of  anything,  but  of  disgrace.  And  this,  O  men  of 
\thens,  is  a  true  saying. 

Strange,  indeed,  would  be  my  conduct,  O  men  of  Athens, 
if  I  who,  when  I  was  ordered  by  the  generals  whom  you 
chose  to  command  me  at  Potidaea  and  Amphipolis  and  Delium, 
remained  where  they  placed  me,  like  any  other  man,  facing 
death — if,  I  say,  now,  when,  as  I  conceive  and  imagine,  God 
orders  me  to  fulfil  the  philosopher's  mission  of  searching  into 
myself  and  other  men,  I  were  to  desert  my  post  through  fear 
of  death,  or  any  other  fear;  that  would  indeed  be  strange, 
and  I  might  justly  be  arraigned  in  court  for  denying  the  exist- 
ence of  the  gods,  if  I  disobeyed  the  oracle  because  I  was  afraid 
of  death:  then  I  should  be  fancying  that  I  was  wise  when  I 
was  not  wise.  For  this  fear  of  death  is  indeed  the  pretence 
of  wisdom,  and  not  real  wisdom,  being  the  appearance  of 
knowing  the  unknown ;  since  no  one  knows  whether  death, 
which  they  in  their  fear  apprehend  to  be  the  greatest  evil,  may 
not  be  the  greatest  good.  Is  there  not  here  conceit  of  knowl- 
edge, which  is  a  disgraceful  sort  of  ignorance?  And  this  is 
the  point  in  which,  as  I  think,  I  am  superior  to  men  in  general, 
and  in  which  I  might  perhaps  fancy  myself  wiser  than  other 


24  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

men — ^that  whereas  I  know  but  little  of  the  world  below,  I 
do  not  suppose  that  I  know :  but  I  do  know  that  injustice 
and  disobedience  to  a  better,  whether  God  or  man,  is  evil 
and  dishonorable,  and  I  will  never  fear  or  avoid  a  possible 
good  rather  than  a  certain  evil.  And  therefore  if  you  let  me 
go  now,  and  reject  the  counsels  of  Anytus,  who  said  that  if 
'  I  were  not  put  to  death  I  ought  not  to  have  been  prosecuted, 
and  that  if  I  escape  now,  your  sons  will  all  be  utterly  ruined 
by  listening  to  my  words — if  you  say  to  me,  Socrates,  this 
time  we  will  not  mind  Anytus,  and  will  let  you  off,  but  upon 
one  condition,  that  you  are  not  to  inquire  and  speculate  in  this 
way  any  more,  and  that  if  you  are  caught  doing  this  again 
you  shall  die — if  this  was  the  condition  on  which  you  let  me  go, 
I  should  reply:  Men  of  Athens,  I  honor  and  love  you;  but 
I  shall  obey  God  rather  than  you,  and  while  I  have  life  and 
strength  I  shall  never  cease  from  the  practice  and  teaching 
of  philosophy,  exhorting  anyone  whom  I  meet  after  my  man- 
ner, and  convincing  him,  saying:  O  my  friend,  why  do  you, 
who  are  a  citizen  of  the  great  and  mighty  and  wise  city  of 
Athens,  care  so  much  about  laying  up  the  greatest  amount 
of  money  and  honor  and  reputation,  and  so  little  about  wis- 
dom and  truth  and  the  greatest  improvement  of  the  soul; 
which  you  never  regard  or  heed  at  all?  Are  you  not  ashamed 
of  this?  And  if  the  person  with  whom  I  am  arguing  says: 
Yes,  but  I  do  care;  I  do  not  depart  or  let  him  go  at  once; 
I  interrogate  and  examine  and  cross-examine  him,  and  if  I 
think  that  he  has  no  virtue,  but  only  says  that  he  has,  I  re- 
proach him  with  undervaluing  the  greater,  and  overvaluing 
the  less.  And  this  I  should  say  to  everyone  whom  I  meet, 
young  and  old,  citizen  and  alien,  but  especially  to  the  citizens, 
inasmuch  as  they  are  my  brethren.  For  this  is  the  command 
of  God,  as  I  would  have  you  know ;  and  I  believe  that  to  this 
day  no  greater  good  has  ever  happened  in  the  State  than 
my  service  to  the  God.  For  I  do  nothing  but  go  about  per- 
suading you  all,  old  and  young  alike,  not  to  take  thought  for 
your  persons  and  your  properties,  but  first  and  chiefly  to  care 
about  the  greatest  improvement  of  the  soul.  I  tell  you  that 
virtue  is  not  given  by  money,  but  that  from  virtue  come 
money  and  every  other  good  of  man,  public  as  well  as  pri- 
vate. This  is  my  teaching,  and  if  this  is  the  doctrine  which 
corrupts  the  youth,  my  influence  is  ruinous  indeed.     But  if 


APOLOGY  «5 

anyone  says  that  this  is  not  my  teaching,  he  is  speaking  an 
untruth.  Wherefore,  O  men  of  Athens,  I  say  to  you,  do  as 
Anytus  bids  or  not  as  Anytus  bids,  and  either  acquit  me  or 
not;  but  whatever  you  do,  know  that  I  shall  never  alter  my 
ways,  not  even  if  I  have  to  die  many  times. 

Men  of  Athens,  do  not  interrupt,  but  hear  me;  there  was 
an  agreement  between  us  that  you  should  hear  me  out.  And 
I  think  that  what  I  am  going  to  say  will  do  you  good :  for  I 
have  something  more  to  say,  at  which  you  may  be  inclined 
to  cry  out ;  but  I  beg  that  you  will  not  do  this.  I  would  have 
you  know  that,  if  you  kill  such  a  one  as  I  am,  you  will 
injure  yourselves  more  than  you  will  injure  me.  Meletus  and 
Anytus  will  not  injure  me :  they  cannot ;  for  it  is  not  in  the 
nature  of  things  that  a  bad  man  should  injure  a  better  than 
himself.  I  do  not  deny  that  he  may,  perhaps,  kill  him,  or 
drive  him  into  exile,  or  deprive  him  of  civil  rights ;  and  he 
may  imagine,  and  others  may  imagine,  that  he  is  doing  him 
a  great  injury :  but  in  that  I  do  not  agree  with  him ;  for  the 
evil  of  doing  as  Anytus  is  doing — of  unjustly  taking  away 
another  man's  life — is  greater  far.  And  now,  Athenians,  I 
am  not  going  to  argue  for  my  own  sake,  as  you  may  think, 
but  for  yours,  that  you  may  not  sin  against  the  God,  or  lightly 
reject  his  boon  by  condemning  me.  For  if  you  kill  me  you 
will  not  easily  find  another  like  me,  who,  if  I  may  use  such  a 
ludicrous  figure  of  speech,  am  a  sort  of  gadfly,  given  to  the 
State  by  the  God;  and  the  State  is  like  a  great  and  noble 
steed  who  is  tardy  in  his  motions  owing  to  his  very  size,  and 
requires  to  be  stirred  into  life.  I  am  that  gadfly  which  God 
has  given  the  State,  and  all  day  long  and  in  all  places  am 
always  fastening  upon  you,  arousing  and  persuading  and  re- 
proaching you.  And  as  you  will  not  easily  find  another  like 
me,  I  would  advise  you  to  spare  me.  I  dare  say  that  you  may 
feel  irritated  at  being  suddenly  awakened  when  you  are  caught 
napping;  and  you  may  think  that  if  you  were  to  strike  me 
dead,  as  Anytus  advises,  which  you  easily  might,  then  you 
would  sleep  on  for  the  remainder  of  your  lives,  unless  God 
in  his  care  of  you  gives  you  another  gadfly.  And  that  I 
am  given  to  you  by  God  is  proved  by  this :  that  if  I  had  been 
like  other  men,  I  should  not  have  neglected  all  my  own  con- 
cerns, or  patiently  seen  the  neglect  of  them  during  all  these 
years,  and  have  been  doing  yours,  coming  to  you  individually. 


26  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

like  a  father  or  elder  brother,  exhorting  you  to  regard  virtue ; 
this,  I  say,  would  not  be  like  human  nature.  And  had  I  gained 
anything,  or  if  my  exhortations  had  been  paid,  there  would 
have  been  some  sense  in  that :  but  now,  as  you  will  perceive, 
not  even  the  impudence  of  my  accusers  dares  to  say  that  I 
have  ever  exacted  or  sought  pay  of  anyone ;  they  have  no  wit- 
ness of  that.  And  I  have  a  witness  of  the  truth  of  what  I 
say;   my  poverty  is  a  sufficient  witness. 

Someone  may  wonder  why  I  go  about  in  private,  giving 
advice  and  busying  myself  with  the  concerns  of  others,  but 
do  not  venture  to  come  forward  in  public  and  advise  the  State. 
I  will  tell  you  the  reason  of  this.  You  have  often  heard  me 
speak  of  an  oracle  or  sign  which  comes  to  me,  and  is  the 
divinity  which  Meletus  ridicules  in  the  indictment.  This  sig^ 
I  have  had  ever  since  I  was  a  child.  The  sign  is  a  voice  which 
comes  to  me  and  always  forbids  me  to  do  something  which 
I  am  going  to  do,  but  never  commands  me  to  do  anything, 
and  this  is  what  stands  in  the  way  of  my  being  a  politician. 
And  rightly,  as  I  think.  For  I  am  certain,  O  men  of  Athens, 
that  if  I  had  engaged  in  politics,  I  should  have  perished  long 
ago,  and  done  no  good  either  to  you  or  to  myself.  And  don't 
be  offended  at  my  telling  you  the  truth :  for  the  truth  is  that 
no  man  who  goes  to  war  with  you  or  any  other  multitude, 
honestly  struggling  against  the  commission  of  unrighteousness 
and  wrong  in  the  State,  will  save  his  life ;  he  who  will  really 
fight  for  the  right,  if  he  would  live  even  for  a  little  while,  must 
have  a  private  station  and  not  a  public  one. 

I  can  give  you  as  proofs  of  this,  not  words  only,  but  deeds, 
which  you  value  more  than  words.  Let  me  tell  you  a  passage 
of  my  own  life,  which  will  prove  to  you  that  I  should  never 
have  yielded  to  injustice  from  any  fear  of  death,  and  that  if 
I  had  not  yielded  I  should  have  died  at  once.  I  will  tell  you 
a  story — tasteless,  perhaps,  and  commonplace,  but  nevertheless 
true.  The  only  office  of  State  which  I  ever  held,  O  men  of 
Athens,  was  that  of  Senator;  the  tribe  Antiochis,  which  is 
my  tribe,  had  the  presidency  at  the  trial  of  the  generals  who 
had  not  taken  up  the  bodies  of  the  slain  after  the  battle  of 
Arginusae;  and  you  proposed  to  try  them  all  together,  which 
was  illegal,  as  you  all  thought  afterwards ;  but  at  the  time  I 
was  the  only  one  of  the  Prytanes  who  was  opposed  to  the 
illegality,  and  I  gave  my  vote  against  you;    and  when  the 


APOLOGY  27 

orators  threatened  to  impeach  and  arrest  me,  and  have  me 
taken  away,  and  you  called  and  shouted,  I  made  up  my  mind 
that  I  would  run  the  risk,  having  law  and  justice  with  me, 
rather  than  take  part  in  your  injustice  because  I  feared  im- 
prisonment and  death.  This  happened  in  the  days  of  the 
democracy.  But  when  the  oligarchy  of  the  Thirty  was  in 
power,  they  sent  for  me  and  four  others  into  the  rotunda,  and 
bade  us  bring  Leon  the  Salaminian  from  Salamis,  as  they 
wanted  to  execute  him.  This  was  a  specimen  of  the  sort  of 
commands  which  they  were  always  giving  with  the  view  of 
implicating  as  many  as  possible  in  their  crimes;  and  then  I 
showed,  not  in  words  only,  but  in  deed,  that,  if  I  may  be 
allowed  to  use  such  an  expression,  I  cared  not  a  straw  for 
death,  and  that  my  only  fear  was  the  fear  of  doing  an  un- 
righteous or  unholy  thing.  For  the  strong  arm  of  that  op- 
pressive power  did  not  frighten  me  into  doing  wrong;  and 
when  we  came  out  of  the  rotunda  the  other  four  went  to 
Salamis  and  fetched  Leon,  but  I  w^ent  quietly  home.  For 
which  I  might  have  lost  my  life,  had  not  the  power  of  the 
Thirty  shortly  afterwards  come  to  an  end.  And  to  this  many 
will  witness. 

Now  do  you  really  imagine  that  I  could  have  survived  all 
these  years,  if  I  had  led  a  public  life,  supposing  that  like 
a  good  man  I  had  always  supported  the  right  and  had  made 
justice,  as  I  ought,  the  first  thing?  No,  indeed,  men  of  Athens, 
neither  I  nor  any  other.  But  I  have  been  always  the  same 
in  all  my  actions,  public  as  well  as  private,  and  never  have  I 
yielded  any  base  compliance  to  those  who  are  slanderously 
termed  my  disciples,  or  to  any  other.  For  the  truth  is  that 
I  have  no  regular  disciples:  but  if  anyone  likes  to  come  and 
hear  me  while  I  am  pursuing  my  mission,  whether  he  be  young 
or  old,  he  may  freely  come.  Nor  do  I  converse  with  those 
who  pay  only,  and  not  with  those  who  do  not  pay;  but  any- 
one, whether  he  be  rich  or  poor,  may  ask  and  answer  me  and 
listen  to  my  words ;  and  whether  he  turns  out  to  be  a  bad  man 
or  a  good  one,  that  cannot  be  justly  laid  to  my  charge,  as  I 
never  taught  him  anything.  And  if  anyone  says  that  he  has 
ever  learned  or  heard  anything  from  me  in  private  which  all 
the  world  has  not  heard,  I  should  like  you  to  know  that  he  is 
speaking  an  untruth. 

But  I  shall  be  asked.  Why  do  people  delight  in  continually 


28  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

conversing  with  you  ?  I  have  told  you  already,  Athenians,  the 
whole  truth  about  this :  they  like  to  hear  the  cross-examination 
of  the  pretenders  to  wisdom ;  there  is  amusement  in  this.  And 
this  is  a  duty  which  the  God  has  imposed  upon  me,  as  I  am 
assured  by  oracles,  visions,  and  in  every  sort  of  way  in  which 
the  will  of  divine  power  was  ever  signified  to  anyone.  This 
is  true,  O  Athenians;  or,  if  not  true,  would  be  soon  refuted. 
For  if  I  am  really  corrupting  the  youth,  and  have  corrupted 
some  of  them  already,  those  of  them  who  have  grown  up  and 
have  become  sensible  that  I  gave  them  bad  advice  in  the  days 
of  their  youth  should  come  forward  as  accusers  and  take  their 
revenge;  and  if  they  do  not  like  to  come  themselves,  some  of 
their  relatives,  fathers,  brothers,  or  other  kinsmen,  should  say 
what  evil  their  families  suffered  at  my  hands.  Now  is  their 
time.  Many  of  them  I  see  in  the  court.  There  is  Crito,  who  is 
of  the  same  age  and  of  the  same  deme  with  myself;  and 
there  is  Critobulus  his  son,  whom  I  also  see.  Then  again  there 
is  Lysanias  of  Sphettus,  who  is  the  father  of  .^^chines — he 
is  present ;  and  also  there  is  Antiphon  of  Cephisus,  who  is  the 
father  of  Epigenes ;  and  there  are  the  brothers  of  several  who 
have  associated  with  me.  There  is  Nicostratus  the  son  of 
Theosdotides,  and  the  brother  of  Theodotus  (now  Theodotus 
himself  is  dead,  and  therefore  he,  at  any  rate,  will  not  seek 
to  stop  him)  ;  and  there  is  Paralus  the  son  of  Demodocus, 
who  had  a  brother  Theages ;  and  Adeimantus  the  son  of  Aris- 
ton,  whose  brother  Plato  is  present;  and  .^^ntodorus,  who 
is  the  brother  of  Apollodorus,  whom  I  also  see.  I  might 
mention  a  great  many  others,  any  of  whom  Meletus  should 
have  produced  as  witnesses  in  the  course  of  his  speech ;  and 
let  him  still  produce  them,  if  he  has  forgotten;  I  will  make 
way  for  him.  And  let  him  say,  if  he  has  any  testimony  of  the 
sort  which  he  can  produce.  Nay,  Athenians,  the  very  oppo- 
site is  the  truth.  For  all  these  are  ready  to  witness  on  behalf 
of  the  corrupter,  of  the  destroyer  of  their  kindred,  as  Meletus 
and  Anytus  call  me;  not  the  corrupted  youth  only — ^there 
might  have  been  a  motive  for  that — ^but  their  uncorrupted 
elder  relatives.  Why  should  they  too  support  me  with  their 
testimony?  Why,  indeed,  except  for  the  sake  of  truth  and 
justice,  and  because  they  know  that  I  am  speaking  the  truth, 
and  that  Meletus  is  lying. 

Well,  Athenians,  this  and  the  like  of  this  is  nearly  all  the 


APOLOGY  29 

defence  which  I  have  to  offer.  Yet  a  word  more.  Perhaps 
there  may  be  someone  who  is  offended  at  me,  when  he  calls 
to  mind  how  he  himself,  on  a  similar  or  even  a  less  serious 
occasion,  had  recourse  to  prayers  and  supplications  with  many 
tears,  and  how  he  produced  his  children  in  court,  which  was 
a  moving  spectacle,  together  with  a  posse  of  his  relations  and 
friends ;  whereas  I,  who  am  probably  in  danger  of  my  life,  will 
do  none  of  these  things.  Perhaps  this  may  come  into  his 
mind,  and  he  may  be  set  against  me,  and  vote  in  anger  be- 
cause he  is  displeased  at  this.  Now  if  there  be  such  a  person 
among  you,  which  I  am  far  from  affirming,  I  may  fairly 
reply  to  him:  My  friend,  I  am  a  man,  and  like  other  men,  a 
creature  of  flesh  and  blood,  and  not  of  wood  or  stone,  as 
Homer  says ;  and  I  have  a  family,  yes,  and  sons,  O  Athenians, 
three  in  number,  one  of  whom  is  growing  up,  and  the  two 
others  are  still  young;  and  yet  I  will  not  bring  any  of  them 
hither  in  order  to  petition  you  for  an  acquittal.  And  why  not  ? 
Not  from  any  self-will  or  disregard  of  you.  Whether  I  am  or 
am  not  afraid  of  death  is  another  question,  of  which  I  will 
not  now  speak.  But  my  reason  simply  is  that  I  feel  such 
conduct  to  be  discreditable  to  myself,  and  you,  and  the  whole 
State.  One  who  has  reached  my  years,  and  who  has  a  name 
for  wisdom,  whether  deserved  or  not,  ought  not  to  debase  him- 
self. At  any  rate,  the  world  has  decided  that  Socrates  is  in 
some  way  superior  to  other  men.  And  if  those  among  you 
who  are  said  to  be  superior  in  wisdom  and  courage,  and  any 
other  virtue,  demean  themselves  in  this  way,  how  shameful 
is  their  conduct!  I  have  seen  men  of  reputation,  when  they 
have  been  condemned,  behaving  in  the  strangest  manner :  they 
seemed  to  fancy  that  they  were  going  to  suffer  something 
dreadful  if  they  died,  and  that  they  could  be  immortal  if  you 
only  allowed  them  to  live;  and  I  think  that  they  were  a  dis- 
honor to  the  State,  and  that  any  stranger  coming  in  would 
say  of  them  that  the  most  eminent  men  of  Athens,  to  whom 
the  Athenians  themselves  give  honor  and  command,  are  no 
better  than  women.  And  I  say  that  these  things  ought  not  to 
be  done  by  those  of  us  who  are  of  reputation ;  and  if  they 
are  done,  you  ought  not  to  permit  them;  you  ought  rather 
to  show  that  you  are  more  inclined  to  condemn,  not  the  man 
who  is  quiet,  but  the  man  who  gets  up  a  doleful  scene,  and 
makes  the  city  ridiculous. 


30  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

But,  setting  aside  the  question  of  dishonor,  there  seems  to 
be  something  wrong  in  petitioning  a  judge,  and  thus  procur- 
ing an  acquittal  instead  of  informing  and  convincing  him. 
For  his  duty  is,  not  to  make  a  present  of  justice,  but  to  give 
judgment;  and  he  has  sworn  that  he  will  judge  according  to 
the  laws,  and  not  according  to  his  own  good  pleasure;  and 
neither  he  nor  we  should  get  into  the  habit  of  perjuring  our- 
selves— there  can  be  no  piety  in  that.  Do  not  then  require 
me  to  do  what  I  consider  dishonorable  and  impious  and  wrong, 
especially  now,  when  I  am  being  tried  for  impiety  on  the  in- 
dictment of  Meletus.  For  if,  O  men  of  Athens,  by  force  of 
persuasion  and  entreaty,  I  could  overpower  your  oaths,  then 
I  should  be  teaching  you  to  believe  that  there  are  no  gods, 
and  convict  myself,  in  my  own  defence,  of  not  believing  in 
them.  But  that  is  not  the  case;  for  I  do  believe  that  there 
are  gods,  and  in  a  far  higher  sense  than  that  in  which  any 
of  my  accusers  believe  in  them.  And  to  you  and  to  God  I 
commit  my  cause,  to  be  determined  by  you  as  is  best  for  you 
and  me.  

There  are  many  reasons  why  I  am  not  grieved,  O  men  of 
Athens,  at  the  vote  of  condemnation.  I  expected  this,  and 
am  only  surprised  that  the  votes  are  so  nearly  equal ;  for  I 
had  thought  that  the  majority  against  me  would  have  been 
far  larger;  but  now,  had  thirty  votes  gone  over  to  the  other 
side,  I  should  have  been  acquitted.  And  I  may  say  that  I 
have  escaped  Meletus.  And  I  may  say  more;  for  without 
the  assistance  of  Anytus  and  Lycon,  he  would  not  have  had 
a  fifth  part  of  the  votes,  as  the  law  requires,  in  which  case 
he  would  have  incurred  a  fine  of  a  thousand  drachmae,  as  is 
evident. 

And  so  he  proposes  death  as  the  penalty.  And  what  shall 
I  propose  on  my  part,  O  men  of  Athens?  Clearly  that  which 
is  my  due.  And  what  is  that  which  I  ought  to  pay  or  to  re- 
ceive? What  shall  be  done  to  the  man  who  has  never  had 
the  wit  to  be  idle  during  his  whole  life ;  but  has  been  care- 
less of  what  the  many  care  about — wealth  and  family  inter- 
ests, and  military  offices,  and  speaking  in  the  assembly,  and 
magistracies,  and  plots,  and  parties.  Reflecting  that  I  was 
really  too  honest  a  man  to  follow  in  this  way  and  live,  I  did 
not  go  where  I  could  do  no  good  to  you  or  to  myself;   but 


APOLOGY  31 

where  I  could  do  the  greatest  good  privately  to  everyone  of 
you,  thither  I  went,  and  sought  to  persuade  every  man  among 
you  that  he  must  look  to  himself,  and  seek  virtue  and  wis- 
dom before  he  looks  to  his  private  interests,  and  look  to  the 
State  before  he  looks  to  the  interests  of  the  State;  and  that 
this  should  be  the  order  which  he  observes  in  all  his  actions. 
What  shall  be  done  to  such  a  one  ?  Doubtless  some '  good 
thing,  O  men  of  Athens,  if  he  has  his  reward ;  and  the  good 
should  be  of  a  kind  suitable  to  him.  What  would  be  a  reward 
suitable  to  a  poor  man  who  is  your  benefactor,  who  desires 
leisure  that  he  may  instruct  you?  There  can  be  no  more 
fitting  reward  than  maintenance  in  the  Prytaneum,  O  men  of 
Athens,  a  reward  which  he  deserves  far  more  than  the  citizen 
who  has  won  the  prize  at  Olympia  in  the  horse  or  chariot 
race,  whether  the  chariots  were  drawn  by  two  horses  or  by 
many.  For  I  am  in  want,  and  he  has  enough;  and  he  only 
gives  you  the  appearance  of  happiness,  and  I  give  you  the 
reality.  And  if  I  am  to  estimate  the  penalty  justly,  I  say  that 
maintenance  in  the  Prytaneum  is  the  just  return. 

Perhaps  you  may  think  that  I  am  braving  you  in  saying 
this,  as  in  what  I  said  before  about  the  tears  and  prayers. 
But  that  is  not  the  case.  I  speak  rather  because  I  am  con- 
vinced that  I  never  intentionally  wronged  anyone,  although 
I  cannot  convince  you  of  that — for  we  have  had  a  short  con- 
versation only ;  but  if  there  were  a  law  at  Athens,  such  as 
there  is  in  other  cities,  that  a  capital  cause  should  not  be 
decided  in  one  day,  then  I  believe  that  I  should  have  con- 
vinced you ;  but  now  the  time  is  too  short.  I  cannot  in  a 
moment  refute  great  slanders;  and,  as  I  am  convinced  that  I 
never  wronged  another,  I  will  assuredly  not  wrong  myself.  I 
will  not  say  of  myself  that  I  deserve  any  evil,  or  propose  any 
penalty.  Why  should  I  ?  Because  I  am  afraid  of  the  penalty 
of  death  which  Meletus  proposes?  When  I  do  not  know 
whether  death  is  a  good  or  an  evil,  why  should  I  propose  a 
penalty  which  would  certainly  be  an  evil?  Shall  I  say  im- 
prisonment? And  why  should  I  live  in  prison,  and  be  the 
slave  of  the  magistrates  of  the  year — of  the  Eleven  ?  Or  shall 
the  penalty  be  a  fine,  and  imprisonment  until  the  fine  is  paid  ? 
There  is  the  same  objection.  I  should  have  to  lie  in  prison, 
for  money  I  have  none,  and  cannot  pay.  And  if  I  say 
exile  (and  this  may  possibly  be  the  penalty  which  you  will 


32  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

affix),  I  must  indeed  be  blinded  by  the  love  of  life  if  I  were 
to  consider  that  when  you,  who  are  my  own  citizens,  cannot 
endure  my  discourses  and  words,  and  have  found  them  so 
grievous  and  odious  that  you  would  fain  have  done  with 
them,  others  are  likely  to  endure  me.  No,  indeed,  men  of 
Athens,  that  is  not  very  likely.  And  what  a  life  should  I 
lead,  at  my  age,  wandering  from  city  to  city,  living  in  ever- 
changing  exile,  and  always  being  driven  out !  For  I  am  quite 
sure  that  into  whatever  place  I  go,  as  here  so  also  there,  the 
young  men  will  come  to  me ;  and  if  I  drive  them  away,  their 
elders  will  drive  me  out  at  their  desire:  and  if  I  let  them 
come,  their  fathers  and  friends  will  drive  me  out  for  their 
sakes. 

Someone  will  say :  Yes,  Socrates,  but  cannot  you  hold  your 
tongue,  and  then  you  may  go  into  a  foreign  city,  and  no  one 
will  interfere  with  you  ?  Now  I  have  great  difficulty  in  making 
you  understand  my  answer  to  this.  For  if  I  tell  you  that  this 
would  be  a  disobedience  to  a  divine  command,  and  therefore 
that  I  cannot  hold  my  tongue,  you  will  not  believe  that  I  am 
serious ;  and  if  I  say  again  that  the  greatest  good  of  man  is 
daily  to  converse  about  virtue,  and  all  that  concerning  which 
you  hear  me  examining  myself  and  others,  and  that  the  life 
which  is  unexamined  is  not  worth  living — thaf  you  are  still 
less  likely  to  believe.  And  yet  what  I  say  is  true,  although 
a  thing  of  which  it  is  hard  for  me  to  persuade  you.  More- 
over, I  am  not  accustomed  to  think  that  I  deserve  any  punish- 
ment. Had  I  money  I  might  have  proposed  to  give  you  what 
I  had,  and  have  been  none  the  worse.  But  you  see  that  I 
have  none,  and  can  only  ask  you  to  proportion  the  fine  to 
my  means.  However,  I  think  that  I  could  afford  a  mina,  and 
therefore  I  propose  that  penalty:  Plato,  Crito,  Critobulus, 
and  Apollodorus,  my  friends  here,  bid  me  say  thirty  minae, 
and  they  will  be  the  sureties.  Well,  then,  say  thirty  minae,  let 
that  be  the  penalty ;  for  that  they  will  be  ample  security  to  you. 

Not  much  time  will  be  gained,  O  Athenians,  in  return  for 
the  evil  name  which  you  will  get  from  the  detractors  of  the 
city,  who  will  say  that  you  killed  Socrates,  a  wise  man ;  for 
they  will  call  me  wise  even  although  I  am  not  wise  when  they 
want  to  reproach  you.  If  you  had  waited  a  little  while,  your 
desire  would  have  been  fulfilled  in  the  course  of  nature.  For 
I  am  far  advanced  in  years,  as  you  may  perceive,  and  not  far 


APOLOGY  33 

from  death.  I  am  speaking  now  only  to  those  of  you  who 
have  condemned  me  to  death.  And  I  have  another  thing  to 
say  to  them:  You  think  that  I  was  convicted  through  defi- 
ciency of  words — I  mean,  that  if  I  had  thought  fit  to  leave 
nothing^  undone,  nothing  unsaid,  I  might  have  gained  an  ac- 
quittal. Not  so ;  the  deficiency  which  led  to  my  conviction  was 
not  of  words — certainly  not.  But  I  had  not  the  boldness  or 
impudence  or  inclination  to  address  you  as  you  would  have 
liked  me  to  address  you,  weeping  and  wailing  and  lamenting, 
and  saying  and  doing  many  things  which  you  have  been  accus- 
tomed to  hear  from  others,  and  which,  as  I  say,  are  unworthy 
of  me.  But  I  thought  that  I  ought  not  to  do  anything  com- 
mon or  mean  in  the  hour  of  danger :  nor  do  I  now  repent  of 
the  manner  of  my  defence,  and  I  would  rather  die  having 
spoken  after  my  manner,  than  speak  in  your  manner  and  live. 
For  neither  in  war  nor  yet  at  law  ought  any  man  to  use  every 
way  of  escaping  death.  For  often  in  battle  there  is  no  doubt 
that  if  a  man  will  throw  away  his  arms,  and  fall  on  his  knees 
before  his  pursuers,  he  may  escape  death ;  and  in  other  dangers 
there  are  other  ways  of  escaping  death,  if  a  man  is  willing 
to  say  and  do  anything.  The  difficulty,  my  friends,  is  not 
in  avoiding  death,  but  in  avoiding  unrighteousness;  for  that 
runs  faster  than  death.  I  am  old  and  move  slowly,  and  the 
slower  runner  has  overtaken  me,  and  my  accusers  are  keen 
and  quick,  and  the  faster  runner,  who  is  unrighteousness, 
has  overtaken  them.  And  now  I  depart  hence  condemned 
by  you  to  suffer  the  penalty  of  death,  and  they,  too,  go  their 
ways  condemned  by  the  truth  to  suffer  the  penalty  of  villany 
and  wrong;  and  I  must  abide  by  my  award — let  them  abide 
by  theirs.  I  suppose  that  these  things  may  be  regarded  as 
fated — and  I  think  that  they  are  well. 

And  now,  O  men  who  have  condemned  me,  I  would  fain 
prophesy  to  you ;  for  I  am  about  to  die,  and  that  is  the  hour 
in  which  men  are  gifted  with  prophetic  power.  And  I  prophesy 
to  you  who  are  my  murderers,  that  immediately  after  my 
death  punishment  far  heavier  than  you  have  inflicted  on  me 
will  surely  await  you.  Me  you  have  killed  because  you  wanted 
to  escape  the  accuser,  and  not  to  give  an  account  of  your 
lives.  But  that  will  not  be  as  you  suppose:  far  otherwise. 
For  I  say  that  there  will  be  more  accusers  of  you  than  there 
are  now;  accusers  whom  hitherto  I  have  restrained:  and  as 
3 


34 


DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 


they  are  younger  they  will  be  more  severe  with  you,  and  you 
will  be  more  offended  at  them.  For  if  you  think  that  by 
killing  men  you  can  avoid  the  accuser  censuring  your  lives, 
you  are  mistaken;  that  is  not  a  way  of  escape  which  is  either 
possible  or  honorable;  the  easiest  and  the  noblest  way  is 
not  to  be  crushing  others,  but  to  be  improving  yourselves. 
This  is  the  prophecy  which  I  utter  before  my  departure,  to 
the  judges  who  have  condemned  me. 

Friends,  who  would  have  acquitted  me,  I  would  like  also 
to  talk  with  you  about  this  thing  which  has  happened,  while 
the  magistrates  are  busy,  and  before  I  go  to  the  place  at  which 
I  must  die.  Stay  then  awhile,  for  we  may  as  well  talk  with 
one  another  while  there  is  time.  You  are  my  friends,  and  I 
should  like  to  show  you  the  meaning  of  this  event  which  has 
happened  to  me.  O  my  judges — for  you  I  may  truly  call 
judges — I  should  like  to  tell  you  of  a  wonderful  circumstance. 
Hitherto  the  familiar  oracle  within  me  has  constantly  been 
in  the  habit  of  opposing  me  even  about  trifles,  if  I  was  going 
to  make  a  slip  or  error  about  anything;  and  now  as  you  see 
there  has  come  upon  me  that  which  may  be  thought,  and  is 
generally  believed  to  be,  the  last  and  worst  evil.  But  the 
oracle  made  no  sign  of  opposition,  either  as  I  was  leaving 
my  house  and  going  out  in  the  morning,  or  when  I  was  going 
up  into  this  court,  or  while  I  was  speaking,  at  anything  which 
I  was  going  to  say;  and  yet  I  have  often  been  stopped  in 
the  middle  of  a  speech;  but  now  in  nothing  I  either  said 
or  did  touching  this  matter  has  the  oracle  opposed  me.  What 
do  I  take  to  be  the  explanation  of  this?  I  will  tell  you.  I 
regard  this  as  a  proof  that  what  has  happened  to  me  is  a  good, 
and  that  those  of  us  who  think  that  death  is  an  evil  are  in 
error.  This  is  a  great  proof  to  me  of  what  I  am  saying,  for 
the  customary  sign  would  surely  have  opposed  me  had  I  been 
going  to  evil  and  not  to  good. 

Let  us  reflect  in  another  way,  and  we  shall  see  that  there 
is  great  reason  to  hope  that  death  is  a  good,  for  one  of  two 
things :  either  death  is  a  state  of  nothingness  and  utter  uncon- 
sciousness, or,  as  men  say,  there  is  a  change  and  migration  of 
the  soul  from  this  world  to  another.  Now  if  you  suppose 
that  there  is  no  consciousness,  but  a  sleep  like  the  sleep  of 
him  who  is  undisturbed  even  by  the  sight  of  dreams,  death 
will  be  an  unspeakable  gain.    For  if  a  person  were  to  select 


APOLOGY  35 

the  night  in  which  his  sleep  was  undisturbed  even  by  dreams, 
and  were  to  compare  with  this  the  other  days  and  nights  of 
his  Hfe,  and  then  were  to  tell  us  how  many  days  and  nights 
he  had  passed  in  the  course  of  his  life  better  and  more  pleas- 
antly than  this  one,  I  think  that  any  man,  I  will  not  say  a 
private  man,  but  even  the  great  king,  will  not  find  many  such 
days  or  nights,  when  compared  with  the  others.  Now  if 
death  is  like  this,  I  say  that  to  die  is  gain;  for  eternity  is 
then  only  a  single  night.  But  if  death  is  the  journey  to  an- 
other place,  and  there,  as  men  say,  all  the  dead  are,  what 
good,  O  my  friends  and  judges,  can  be  greater  than  this? 
If  indeed  when  the  pilgrim  arrives  in  the  world  below,  he 
is  delivered  from  the  professors  of  justice  in  this  world,  and 
finds  the  true  judges  who  are  said  to  give  judgment  there, 
Minos  and  Rhadamanthus  and  ^acus  and  Triptolemus,  and 
other  sons  of  God  who  were  righteous  in  their  own  life,  that 
pilgrimage  will  be  worth  making.  What  would  not  a  man 
give  if  he  might  converse  with  Orpheus  and  Musaeus  and 
Hesiod  and  Homer?  Nay,  if  this  be  true,  let  me  die  again 
and  again.  I,  too,  shall  have  a  wonderful  interest  in  a  place 
where  I  can  converse  with  Palamedes,  and  Ajax  the  son  of 
Telamon,  and  other  heroes  of  old,  who  have  suflered  death 
through  an  unjust  judgment ;  and  there  will  be  no  small 
pleasure,  as  I  think,  in  comparing  my  own  sufferings  with 
theirs.  Above  all,  I  shall  be  able  to  continue  my  search  into 
true  and  false  knowledge ;  as  in  this  world,  so  also  in  that ;  I 
shall  find  out  who  is  wise,  and  who  pretends  to  be  wise,  and 
is  not.  What  would  not  a  man  give,  O  judges,  to  be  able  to 
examine  the  leader  of  the  great  Trojan  expedition ;  or  Odys- 
seus or  Sisyphus,  or  numberless  others,  men  and  women  too! 
What  infinite  delight  would  there  be  in  conversing  with  them 
and  asking  them  questions !  For  in  that  world  they  do  not 
put  a  man  to  death  for  this ;  certainly  not.  For  besides  being 
happier  in  that  world  than  in  this,  they  will  be  immortal,  if 
what  is  said  is  true. 

Wherefore,  O  judges,  be  of  good  cheer  about  death,  and 
know  this  of  a  truth — that  no  evil  can  happen  to  a  good  man, 
either  in  life  or  after  death.  He  and  his  are  not  neglected 
by  the  gods ;  nor  has  my  own  approaching  end  happened 
by  mere  chance.  But  I  see  clearly  that  to  die  and  be  released 
was  better  for  me;    and  therefore  the  oracle  gave  no  sign. 


36  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

For  which  reason,  also,  I  am  not  angry  with  my  accusers,  or 
my  condemners ;  they  have  done  me  no  harm,  although  neither 
of  them  meant  to  do  me  any  good ;  and  for  this  I  may  gently 
blame  them. 

Still  I  have  a  favor  to  ask  of  them.  When  my  sons  are 
grown  up,  I  would  ask  you,  O  my  friends,  to  punish  them ; 
and  I  would  have  you  trouble  them,  as  I  have  troubled  you, 
if  they  seem  to  care  about  riches,  or  anything,  more  than 
about  virtue;  or  if  they  pretend  to  be  something  when  they 
are  really  nothing — then  reprove  them,  as  I  have  reproved 
you,  for  not  caring  about  that  for  which  they  ought  to  care, 
and  thinking  that  they  are  something  when  they  are  really 
nothing.  And  if  you  do  this,  I  and  my  sons  will  have  received 
justice  at  your  hands. 

The  hour  of  departure  has  arrived,  and  we  go  our  ways — 
I  to  die,  and  you  to  live.    Which  is  better,  God  only  knows. 


[ 


INTRODUCTION  TO  CRITO 

THE  "  Crito "  seems  intended  to  exhibit  the  character 
of  Socrates  in  one  light  only,  not  as  the  philosopher, 
fulfilling  a  divine  mission  and  trusting  in  the  will 
of  Heaven,  but  simply  as  the  good  citizen,  who  having  been 
unjustly  condemned  is  willing  to  give  up  his  life  in  obedience 
to  the  laws  of  the  State. 

The  days  of  Socrates  are  drawing  to  a  close ;  the  fatal 
ship*  has  been  seen  off  Sunium,  as  he  is  informed  by  his  aged 
friend  and  contemporary  Crito,  who  visits  him  before  the 
dawn  has  broken ;  he  himself  has  been  warned  in  a  dream  that 
on  the  third  day  he  must  depart.  Time  is  precious  and  Crito 
has  come  early  in  order  to  gain  his  consent  to  a  plan  of  escape. 
This  can  be  easily  accomplished  by  his  friends,  who  will  incur 
no  danger  in  making  the  attempt  to  save  him,  but  will  be 
disgraced  forever  if  they  allow  him  to  perish.  He  should 
think  of  his  duty  to  his  children,  and  not  play  into  the  hands 
of  his  enemies.  Money  is  already  provided  by  Crito  as  well 
as  by  Simmias  and  others,  and  he  will  have  no  difficulty  in 
finding  friends  in  Thessaly  and  other  places. 

Socrates  is  afraid  that  Crito  is  but  pressing  upon  him  the 
opinions  of  the  many :  whereas,  all  his  life  long  he  has  followed 
the  dictates  of  reason  only  and  the  opinion  of  the  one  wise 
or  skilled  man.  There  was  a  time  when  Crito  himself  had 
allowed  the  propriety  of  this.  And  although  someone  will  say 
"  The  many  can  kill  us,"  that  makes  no  difference ;  but  a  good 
life,  that  is  to  say  a  just  and  honorable  life,  is  alone  to  be 
valued.  All  considerations  of  loss  of  reputation  or  injury  to 
his  children  should  be  dismissed :  the  only  question  is  whether 
he  would  be  right  in  attempting  to  escape.  Crito,  who  is  a  dis- 
interested person,  not  having  the  fear  of  death  before  his  eyes, 
shall  answer  this  for  him.     Before  he  was  condemned  they 

*  The  sacred  ship,  during  whose  thirty  days'  voyage  to  and  from  the 
oracle  at  Delos  no  Athenian  citizen  could  be  put  to  death. 

37 


38  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

had  often  held  discussions,  in  which  they  agreed  that  no  man 
should  either  do  evil,  or  return  evil  for  evil,  or  betray  the 
right.  Are  these  principles  to  be  altered  because  the  circum- 
stances of  Socrates  are  altered  ?  Crito  admits  that  they  remain 
the  same.  Then  is  his  escape  consistent  with  the  maintenance 
of  them  ?    To  this  Crito  is  unable  or  unwilling  to  reply. 

Socrates  proceeds:  Suppose  the  laws  of  Athens  to  come 
and  remonstrate  with  him :  they  will  ask,  "  Why  does  he  seek 
to  overturn  them  ?  "  and  if  he  replies,  "  They  have  injured  him," 
will  not  the  laws  answer,  "  Yes,  but  was  that  the  agreement  ? 
Has  he  any  objection  to  make  to  them  which  would  justify  him 
in  overturning  them  ?  Was  he  not  brought  into  the  world  and 
educated  by  their  help,  and  are  they  not  his  parents  ?  He  might 
have  left  Athens  and  gone  where  he  pleased,  but  he  has  lived 
there  for  seventy  years  more  constantly  than  any  other  citizen." 
Thus  he  has  clearly  shown  that  he  acknowledged  the  agree- 
ment which  he  cannot  now  break  without  dishonor  to  himself 
and  danger  to  his  friends.  Even  in  the  course  of  the  trial  he 
might  have  proposed  exile  as  the  penalty,  but  then  he  declared 
that  he  preferred  death  to  exile.  And  whither  will  he  direct 
his  footsteps?  In  any  well-ordered  State  the  laws  will  con- 
sider him  as  an  enemy.  Possibly  in  a  land  of  misrule  like 
Thessaly  he  may  be  welcomed  at  first,  and  the  unseemly  narra- 
tive of  his  escape  regarded  by  the  inhabitants  as  an  amusing 
tale.  But  if  he  offends  them  he  will  have  to  learn  another  sort 
of  lesson.  Will  he  continue  to  give  lectures  in  virtue?  That 
would  hardly  be  decent.  And  how  will  his  children  be  the 
gainers  if  he  takes  them  into  Thessaly,  and  deprives  them  of 
Athenian  citizenship?  Or  if  he  leaves  them  behind,  does  he 
expect  that  they  will  be  better  taken  care  of  by  his  friends  be- 
cause he  is  in  Thessaly?  Will  not  true  friends  care  for  them 
equally  whether  he  is  alive  or  dead  ? 

Finally,  they  exhort  him  to  think  of  justice  first,  and  of  life 
and  children  afterwards.  He  may  now  depart  in  peace  and 
innocence,  a  sufferer  and  not  a  doer  of  evil.  But  if  he  breaks 
agreements,  and  returns  evil  for  evil,  they  will  be  angry  with 
him  while  he  lives ;  and  their  brethren,  the  laws  of  the  world 
below,  will  receive  him  as  an  enemy.  Such  is  the  mystic  voice 
which  is  always  murmuring  in  his  ears. 

That  Socrates  was  not  a  good  citizen  was  a  charge  made 
against  him  during  his  lifetime,  which  has  been  often  repeated 


INTRODUCTION  TO  CRITO  39 

in  later  ages.  The  crimes  of  Alcibiades,  Critias,  and  Char- 
mides,  who  had  been  his  pupils,  were  still  recent  in  the  memory 
of  the  now  restored  democracy.  The  fact  that  he  had  been 
neutral  in  the  death  struggle  of  Athens  was  not  likely  to  con- 
ciliate popular  good-will.  Plato,  writing  probably  in  the  next 
generation,  undertakes  the  defence  of  his  friend  and  master  in 
this  particular,  not  to  the  Athenians  of  his  day,  but  to  posterity 
and  the  world  at  large. 

Whether  such  an  incident  ever  really  occurred  as  the  visit 
of  Crito  and  the  proposal  of  escape  is  uncertain :  Plato  could 
easily  have  invented  far  more  than  that;  and  in  the  selection 
of  Crito,  the  aged  friend,  as  the  fittest  person  to  make  the 
proposal  to  Socrates,  we  seem  to  recognize  the  hand  of  the 
artist.  Whether  anyone  who  has  been  subjected  by  the  laws 
of  his  country  to  an  unjust  judgment  is  right  in  attempting 
to  escape  is  a  thesis  about  which  casuists  might  disagree. 
Shelley  is  of  opinion  that  Socrates  "  did  well  to  die,"  but  not 
for  the  "  sophistical  "  reasons  which  Plato  has  put  into  his 
mouth.  And  there  would  be  no  difficulty  in  arguing  that 
Socrates  should  have  lived  and  preferred  to  a  glorious  death 
the  good  which  he  might  still  be  able  to  perform.  "  A  skil- 
ful rhetorician  would  have  had  much  to  say  about  that  ** 
(50  c).  It  may  be  remarked,  however,  that  Plato  never  in- 
tended to  answer  the  question  of  casuistry,  but  only  to  exhibit 
the  ideal  of  patient  virtue  which  refuses  to  do  the  least  evil 
in  order  to  avoid  the  greatest,  and  to  show  Socrates,  his 
master,  maintaining  in  death  the  opinions  which  he  had  pro- 
fessed in  his  life.  Not  "  the  world,"  but  the  "  one  wise  man," 
is  still  the  philosopher's  paradox  in  his  last  hours. 


CRITO; 

OR,  THE    DUTY   OF  A  CITIZEN 

PERSONS  OF  THE  DIALOGUE 
Socrates  Crito 

Scene  : — The  Prison  of  Socrates 
Socrates. 

WHY  have  you  come  at  this  hour,  Crito?    it  must  be 
quite  early. 

Crito.     Yes,  certainly. 

Soc.    What  is  the  exact  time? 

Cr.    The  dawn  is  breaking. 

Soc.    I  wonder  the  keeper  of  the  prison  would  let  you  in. 

Cr.  He  knows  me  because  I  often  come,  Socrates;  more- 
over, I  have  done  him  a  kindness. 

Soc.  And  are  you  only  just  come? 

Cr.    No,  I  came  some  time  ago. 

Soc.  Then  why  did  you  sit  and  say  nothing,  instead  of 
awakening  me  at  once? 

Cr.  Why,  indeed,  Socrates,  I  myself  would  rather  not  have 
all  this  sleeplessness  and  sorrow.  But  I  have  been  wonder- 
ing at  your  peaceful  slumbers,  and  that  was  the  reason  why 
I  did  not  awaken  you,  because  I  wanted  you  to  be  out  of 
pain.  I  have  always  thought  you  happy  in  the  calmness  of 
your  temperament ;  but  never  did  I  see  the  like  of  the  easy, 
cheerful  way  in  which  you  bear  this  calamity. 

Soc.  Why,  Crito,  when  a  man  has  reached  my  age  he  ought 
not  to  be  repining  at  the  prospect  of  death. 

Cr.  And  yet  other  old  men  find  themselves  in  similar  mis- 
fortunes, and  age  does  not  prevent  them  from  repining. 

Soc.  That  may  be.  But  you  have  not  told  me  why  you 
come  at  this  early  hour. 

Cr.  I  come  to  bring  you  a  message  which  is  sad  and  pain- 
ful; not  as  I  believe,  to  yourself,  but  to  all  of  us  who  are 
your  friends,  and  saddest  of  all  to  me. 

4« 


43  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

Soc.  What!  I  suppose  that  the  ship  has  come  from  Delos, 
on  the  arrival  of  which  I  am  to  die? 

Cr.  No,  the  ship  has  not  actually  arrived,  but  she  will 
probably  be  here  to-day,  as  persons  who  have  come  from 
Sunium  tell  me  that  they  left  her  there;  and  therefore  to- 
morrow, Socrates,  will  be  the  last  day  of  your  life. 

Soc.  Very  well,  Crito;  if  such  is  the  will  of  God,  I  am 
willing;   but  my  belief  is  that  there  will  be  a  delay  of  a  day. 

Cr.   Why  do  you  say  this? 

Soc.  I  will  tell  you.  I  am  to  die  on  the  day  after  the  arrival 
of  the  ship? 

Cr.   Yes;   that  is  what  the  authorities  say. 

Soc.  But  I  do  not  think  that  the  ship  will  be  here  until 
to-morrow ;  this  I  gather  from  a  vision  which  I  had  last 
night,  or  rather  only  just  now,  when  you  fortunately  allowed 
me  to  sleep. 

Cr.    And  what  was  the  nature  of  the  vision? 

Soc.  There  came  to  me  the  likeness  of  a  woman,  fair  and 
comely,  clothed  in  white  raiment,  who  called  to  me  and  said: 

0  Socrates — 

"  The  third  day  hence,  to  Phthia  shalt  thou  go." 

Cr.    What  a  singular  dream,  Socrates! 

Soc.  There  can  be  no  doubt  about  the  meaning,  Crito,  I 
think. 

Cr.  Yes:  the  meaning  is  only  too  clear.  But,  O!  my 
beloved  Socrates,  let  me  entreat  you  once  more  to  take  my 
advice  and  escape.  For  if  you  die  I  shall  not  only  lose  a 
friend  who  can  never  be  replaced,  but  there  is  another  evil: 
people  who  do  not  know  you  and  me  will  believe  that  I  might 
have  saved  you  if  I  had  been  willing  to  give  money,  but  that 

1  did  not  care.  Now,  can  there  be  a  worse  disgrace  than  this 
— that  I  should  be  thought  to  value  money  more  than  the 
life  of  a  friend?  For  the  many  will  not  be  persuaded  that  I 
wanted  you  to  escape,  and  that  you  refused. 

Soc.  But  why,  my  dear  Crito,  should  we  care  about  the 
opinion  of  the  many?  Good  men,  and  they  are  the  only  per- 
sons who  are  worth  considering,  will  think  of  these  things 
truly  as  they  happened. 

Cr.  But  do  you  see,  Socrates,  that  the  opinion  of  the  many 
must  be  regarded,  as  is  evident  in  your  own  case,  because  they 


CRITO  43 

can  do  the  very  greatest  evil  to  anyone  who  has  lost  their 
good  opinion. 

Soc.  I  only  wish,  Crito,  that  they  could;  for  then  they 
could  also  do  the  greatest  good,  and  that  would  be  well.  But 
the  truth  is,  that  they  can  do  neither  good  nor  evil:  they 
cannot  make  a  man  wise  or  make  him  foolish ;  and  whatever 
they  do  is  the  result  of  chance. 

Cr.  Well,  I  will  not  dispute  about  that;  but  please  to  tell 
me,  Socrates,  whether  you  are  not  acting  out  of  regard  to  me 
and  your  other  friends :  are  you  not  afraid  that  if  you  escape 
hence  we  may  get  into  trouble  with  the  informers  for  having 
stolen  you  away,  and  lose  either  the  whole  or  a  great  part  of 
our  property;  or  that  even  a  worse  evil  may  happen  to  us? 
Now,  if  this  is  your  fear,  be  at  ease;  for  in  order  to  save 
you,  we  ought  surely  to  run  this  or  even  a  greater  risk ;  be 
persuaded,  then,  and  do  as  I  say. 

Soc.  Yes,  Crito,  that  is  one  fear  which  you  mention,  but  by 
no  means  the  only  one. 

Cr.  Fear  not.  There  are  persons  who  at  no  great  cost  are 
willing  to  save  you  and  bring  you  out  of  prison ;  and  as  for 
the  informers,  you  may  observe  that  they  are  far  from  being 
exorbitant  in  their  demands ;  a  little  money  will  satisfy  them. 
My  means,  which,  as  I  am  sure,  are  ample,  are  at  your  ser- 
vice, and  if  you  have  a  scruple  about  spending  all  mine,  here 
are  strangers  who  will  give  you  the  use  of  theirs ;  and  one  of 
them,  Simmias  the  Theban,  has  brought  a  sum  of  money  for 
this  very  purpose ;  and  Cebes  and  many  others  are  willing  to 
spend  their  money  too.  I  say,  therefore,  do  not  on  that  ac- 
count hesitate  about  making  your  escape,  and  do  not  say,  as 
you  did  in  the  court,  that  you  will  have  a  difficulty  in  knowing 
what  to  do  with  yourself  if  you  escape.  For  men  will  love 
you  in  other  places  to  which  you  may  go,  and  not  in  Athens 
only;  there  are  friends  of  mine  in  Thessaly,  if  you  like  to 
go  to  them,  who  will  value  and  protect  you,  and  no  Thessalian 
will  give  you  any  trouble.  Nor  can  I  think  that  you  are 
justified,  Socrates,  in  betraying  your  own  life  when  you  might 
be  saved ;  this  is  playing  into  the  hands  of  your  enemies  and 
destroyers ;  and  moreover  I  should  say  that  you  were  be- 
traying your  children ;  for  you  might  bring  them  up  and 
educate  them ;  instead  of  which  you  go  away  and  leave  them, 
and  they  will  have  to  take  their  chance;   and  if  they  do  not 


44  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

meet  with  the  usual  fate  of  orphans,  there  will  be  small  thanks 
to  you.  No  man  should  bring  children  into  the  world  who 
is  unwilling  to  persevere  to  the  end  in  their  nurture  and  educa- 
tion. But  you  are  choosing  the  easier  part,  as  I  think,  not 
the  better  and  manlier,  which  would  rather  have  become  one 
who  professes  virtue  in  all  his  actions,  like  yourself.  And, 
indeed,  I  am  ashamed  not  only  of  you,  but  of  us  who  are  your 
friends,  when  I  reflect  that  this  entire  business  of  yours  will 
be  attributed  to  our  want  of  courage.  The  trial  need  never 
have  come  on,  or  might  have  been  brought  to  another  issue; 
and  the  end  of  all,  which  is  the  crowning  absurdity,  will  seem 
to  have  been  permitted  by  us,  through  cowardice  and  base- 
ness, who  might  have  saved  you,  as  you  might  have  saved 
yourself,  if  we  had  been  good  for  anything  (for  there  was 
no  difficulty  in  escaping)  ;  and  we  did  not  see  how  disgrace- 
ful, Socrates,  and  also  miserable  all  this  will  be  to  us  as  well 
as  to  you.  Make  your  mind  up  then,  or  rather  have  your 
mind  already  made  up,  for  the  time  of  deliberation  is  over,  and 
there  is  only  one  thing  to  be  done,  which  must  be  done,  if 
at  all,  this  very  night,  and  which  any  delay  will  render  all 
but  impossible;  I  beseech  you  therefore,  Socrates,  to  be  per- 
suaded by  me,  and  to  do  as  I  say. 

Soc.  Dear  Crito,  your  zeal  is  invaluable,  if  a  right  one ;  but 
if  wrong,  the  greater  the  zeal  the  greater  the  evil ;  and  there- 
fore we  ought  to  consider  whether  these  things  shall  be  done 
or  not.  For  I  am  and  always  have  been  one  of  those  natures 
who  must  be  guided  by  reason,  whatever  the  reason  may  be 
which  upon  reflection  appears  to  me  to  be  the  best ;  and  now 
that  this  fortune  has  come  upon  me,  I  cannot  put  away  the 
reasons  which  I  have  before  given:  the  principles  which  I 
have  hitherto  honored  and  revered  I  still  honor,  and  unless 
we  can  find  other  and  better  principles  on  the  instant,  I  am 
certain  not  to  agree  with  you ;  no,  not  even  if  the  power  of 
the  multitude  could  inflict  many  more  imprisonments,  confis- 
cations, deaths,  frightening  us  like  children  with  hobgoblin 
terrors.  But  what  will  be  the  fairest  way  of  considering  the 
question?  Shall  I  return  to  your  old  argument  about  the 
opinions  of  men?  some  of  which  are  to  be  regarded,  and 
others,  as  we  were  saying,  are  not  to  be  regarded.  Now  were 
we  right  in  maintaining  this  before  I  was  condemned?  And 
has  the  argument  which  was  once  good  now  proved  to  be  talk 


CRITO  45 

for  the  sake  of  talking;  in  fact  an  amusement  only,  and  alto- 
gether vanity?  That  is  what  I  want  to  consider  with  your 
help,  Crito:  whether,  under  my  present  circumstances,  the 
argument  appears  to  be  in  any  way  different  or  not ;  and  is  to 
be  allowed  by  me  or  disallowed.  That  argument,  which,  as  I 
believe,  is  maintained  by  many  who  assume  to  be  authorities, 
was  to  the  effect,  as  I  was  saying,  that  the  opinions  of  some 
men  are  to  be  regarded,  and  of  other  men  not  to  be  regarded. 
Now  you,  Crito,  are  a  disinterested  person  who  are  not  going 
to  die  to-morrow — at  least,  there  is  no  human  probability  of 
this,  and  you  are  therefore  not  liable  to  be  deceived  by  the 
circumstances  in  which  you  are  placed.  Tell  me,  then,  whether 
I  am  right  in  saying  that  some  opinions,  and  the  opinions  of 
some  men  only,  are  to  be  valued,  and  other  opinions,  and  the 
opinions  of  other  men,  are  not  to  be  valued.  I  ask  you  whether 
I  was  right  in  maintaining  this? 

Cr.    Certainly. 

Soc.    The  good  are  to  be  regarded,  and  not  the  bad? 

Cr.   Yes. 

Soc.  And  the  opinions  of  the  wise  are  good,  and  the  opin- 
ions of  the  unwise  are  evil? 

Cr.    Certainly. 

Soc.  And  what  was  said  about  another  matter?  Was  the 
disciple  in  gj'mnastics  supposed  to  attend  to  the  praise  and 
blame  and  opinion  of  every  man,  or  of  one  man  only — his 
physician  or  trainer,  whoever  that  was? 

Cr.    Of  one  man  only. 

Soc.  And  he  ought  to  fear  the  censure  and  welcome  the 
praise  of  that  one  only,  and  not  of  the  many? 

Cr.   That  is  clear. 

Soc.  And  he  ought  to  live  and  train,  and  eat  and  drink  in 
the  way  which  seems  good  to  his  single  master  who  has  un- 
derstanding, rather  than  according  to  the  opinion  of  all  other 
men  put  together? 

Cr.   True. 

Soc.  And  if  he  disobeys  and  disregards  the  opinion  and 
approval  of  the  one,  and  regards  the  opinion  of  the  many 
who  have  no  understanding,  will  he  not  suffer  evil? 

Cr.   Certainly  he  will. 

Soc.  And  what  will  the  evil  be,  whither  tending  and  what 
affecting,  in  the  disobedient  person  ? 


46  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

Cr.  Clearly,  affecting  the  body;  that  is  what  is  destroyed 
by  the  evil. 

Soc.  Very  good ;  and  is  not  this  true,  Crito,  of  other  things 
which  we  need  not  separately  enumerate?  In  the  matter  of 
just  and  unjust,  fair  and  foul,  good  and  evil,  which  are  the 
subjects  of  our  present  consultation,  ought  we  to  follow  the 
opinion  of  the  many  and  to  fear  them;  or  the  opinion  of 
the  one  man  who  has  understanding,  and  whom  we  ought  to 
fear  and  reverence  more  than  all  the  rest  of  the  world :  and 
whom  deserting  we  shall  destroy  and  injure  that  principle 
in  us  which  may  be  assumed  to  be  improved  by  justice  and 
deteriorated  by  injustice;    is  there  not  such  a  principle? 

Cr.   Certainly  there  is,  Socrates. 

Soc.  Take  a  parallel  instance :  if,  acting  under  the  advice 
of  men  who  have  no  understanding,  we  destroy  that  which 
is  improvable  by  health  and  deteriorated  by  disease — when 
that  has  been  destroyed,  I  say,  would  life  be  worth  having? 
And  that  is — the  body  ? 

Cr.    Yes. 

Soc.  Could  we  live,  having  an  evil  and  corrupted  body? 

Cr.    Certainly  not. 

Soc.  And  will  life  be  worth  having,  if  that  higher  part  of 
man  be  depraved,  which  is  improved  by  justice  and  deterio- 
rated by  injustice?  Do  we  suppose  that  principle,  whatever 
it  may  be  in  man,  which  has  to  do  with  justice  and  injustice, 
to  be  inferior  to  the  body? 

Cr.   Certainly  not. 

Soc.    More  honored,  then? 

Cr.    Far  more  honored. 

Soc.  Then,  my  friend,  we  must  not  regard  what  the  many 
say  of  us:  but  what  he,  the  one  man  who  has  understanding 
of  just  and  unjust,  will  say,  and  what  the  truth  will  say. 
And  therefore  you  begin  in  error  when  you  suggest  that  we 
should  regard  the  opinion  of  the  many  about  just  and  unjust, 
good  and  evil,  honorable  and  dishonorable.  Well,  someone 
will  say,  "  But  the  many  can  kill  us." 

Cr.  Yes,  Socrates ;  that  will  clearly  be  the  answer. 

Soc.  That  is  true:  but  still  I  find  with  surprise  that  the 
old  argument  is,  as  I  conceive,  unshaken  as  ever.  And  I 
should  like  to  know  whether  I  may  say  the  same  of  another 
proposition — that  not  life,  but  a  good  life,  is  to  be  chiefly 
valued  ? 


CRITO  47 

Cr.   Yes,  that  also  remains. 

Soc.  And  a  good  life  is  equivalent  to  a  just  and  honorable 
one — that  holds  also? 

Cr.  Yes,  that  holds. 

Soc.  From  these  premises  I  proceed  to  argue  the  question 
whether  I  ought  or  ought  not  to  try  to  escape  without  the 
consent  of  the  Athenians :  and  if  I  am  clearly  right  in  escap- 
ing, then  I  will  make  the  attempt ;  but  if  not,  I  will  abstain. 
The  other  considerations  which  you  mention,  of  money  and 
loss  of  character,  and  the  duty  of  educating  children,  are,  as 
I  hear,  only  the  doctrines  of  the  multitude,  who  would  be  as 
ready  to  call  people  to  life,  if  they  were  able,  as  they  are  to 
put  them  to  death — and  with  as  little  reason.  But  now,  since 
the  argument  has  thus  far  prevailed,  the  only  question  which 
remains  to  be  considered  is,  whether  we  shall  do  rightly  either 
in  escaping  or  in  suffering  others  to  aid  in  our  escape  and 
paying  them  in  money  and  thanks,  or  whether  we  shall  not 
do  rightly ;  and  if  the  latter,  then  death  or  any  other  calamity 
which  may  ensue  on  my  remaining  here  must  not  be  allowed 
to  enter  into  the  calculation. 

Cr.  I  think  that  you  are  right,  Socrates;  how  then  shall 
we  proceed? 

Soc.  Let  us  consider  the  matter  together,  and  do  you  either 
refute  me  if  you  can,  and  I  will  be  convinced ;  or  else  cease, 
my  dear  friend,  from  repeating  to  me  that  I  ought  to  escape 
against  the  wishes  of  the  Athenians:  for  I  am  extremely 
desirous  to  be  persuaded  by  you,  but  not  against  my  own 
better  judgment.  And  now  please  to  consider  my  first  posi- 
tion, and  do  your  best  to  answer  me. 

Cr.    I  will  do  my  best. 

Soc.  Are  we  to  say  that  we  are  never  intentionally  to  do 
wrong,  or  that  in  one  way  we  ought  and  in  another  way  we 
ought  not  to  do  wrong,  or  is  doing  wrong  always  evil  and  dis- 
honorable, as  I  was  just  now  saying,  and  as  has  been  already 
acknowledged  by  us?  Are  all  our  former  admissions  which 
were  made  within  a  few  days  to  be  thrown  away?  And  have 
we,  at  our  age,  been  earnestly  discoursing  with  one  another 
all  our  life  long  only  to  discover  that  we  are  no  better  than 
children?  Or  are  we  to  rest  assured,  in  spite  of  the  opinior 
of  the  many,  and  in  spite  of  consequences  whether  better  or 
worse,  of  the  truth  of  what  was  then  said,  that  injustice  is 


48  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

always  an  evil  and  dishonor  to  him  who  acts  unjustly?  Shall 
we  affirm  that? 

Cr.    Yes. 

Soc,   Then  we  must  do  no  wrong? 

Cr.   Certainly  not. 

Soc.  Nor  when  injured  injure  in  return,  as  the  many 
imagine;   for  we  must  injure  no  one  at  all? 

Cr.   Clearly  not. 

Soc.  Again,  Crito,  may  we  do  evil? 

Cr.    Surely  not,  Socrates. 

Soc.  And  what  of  doing  evil  in  return  for  evil,  which  is  the 
morality  of  the  many — is  that  just  or  not? 

Cr.   Not  just. 

Soc.  For  doing  evil  to  another  is  the  same  as  injuring  him? 

Cr.    Very  true. 

Soc.  Then  we  ought  not  to  retaliate  or  render  evil  for  evil 
to  anyone,  whatever  evil  we  may  have  suffered  from  him. 
But  I  would  have  you  consider,  Crito,  whether  you  really 
mean  what  you  are  saying.  For  this  opinion  has  never  been 
held,  and  never  will  be  held,  by  any  considerable  number  of 
persons;  and  those  who  are  agreed  and  those  who  are  not 
agreed  upon  this  point  have  no  common  ground,  and  can 
only  despise  one  another  when  they  see  how  widely  they 
differ.  Tell  me,  then,  whether  you  agree  with  and  assent  to 
my  first  principle,  that  neither  injury  nor  retaliation  nor 
warding  off  evil  by  evil  is  ever  right.  And  shall  that  be  the 
premise  of  our  argument?  Or  do  you  decline  and  dissent 
from  this  ?  For  this  has  been  of  old  and  is  still  my  opinion ; 
but,  if  you  are  of  another  opinion,  let  me  hear  what  you  have 
to  say.  If,  however,  you  remain  of  the  same  mind  as  for- 
merly, I  will  proceed  to  the  next  step. 

Cr.    You  may  proceed,  for  I  have  not  changed  my  mind. 

Soc.  Then  I  will  proceed  to  the  next  step,  which  may  be 
put  in  the  form  of  a  question:  Ought  a  man  to  do  what  he 
admits  to  be  right,  or  ought  he  to  betray  the  right? 

Cr.  He  ought  to  do  what  he  thinks  right. 

Soc.  But  if  this  is  true,  what  is  the  application  ?  In  leaving 
the  prison  against  the  will  of  the  Athenians,  do  I  wrong  any  : 
or  rather  do  I  not  wrong  those  whom  I  ought  least  to  wrong? 
Do  I  not  desert  the  principles  which  were  acknowledged  by 
us  to  be  just?    What  do  you  say? 


CRITO 


49 


Cr.   I  cannot  tell,  Socrates,  for  I  do  not  know. 

Soc.  Then  consider  the  matter  in  this  way:  Imagine  that 
I  am  about  to  play  truant  (you  may  call  the  proceeding  by 
any  name  which  you  like),  and  the  laws  and  the  government 
come  and  interrogate  me :  "  Tell  us,  Socrates,"  they  say ; 
"  what  are  you  about  ?  are  you  going  by  an  act  of  yours  to 
overturn  us — the  laws  and  the  whole  State,  as  far  as  in  you 
lies?  Do  you  imagine  that  a  State  can  subsist  and  not  be 
overthrown,  in  which  the  decisions  of  law  have  no  power,  but 
are  set  aside  and  overthrown  by  individuals  ?"  What  will 
be  our  answer,  Crito,  to  these  and  the  like  words?  Anyone, 
and  especially  a  clever  rhetorician,  will  have  a  good  deal  to 
urge  about  the  evil  of  setting  aside  the  law  which  requires  a 
sentence  to  be  carried  out ;  and  we  might  reply,  "  Yes ;  but 
the  State  has  injured  us  and  given  an  unjust  sentence."  Sup- 
pose I  say  that? 

Cr.    Very  good,  Socrates. 

Soc.  "And  was  that  our  agreement  with  you?"  the  law 
would  say ;  "  or  were  you  to  abide  by  the  sentence  of  the 
State  ?  "  And  if  I  were  to  express  astonishment  at  their  say- 
ing this,  the  law  would  probably  add :  "  Answer,  Socrates, 
instead  of  opening  your  eyes :  you  are  in  the  habit  of  asking 
and  answering  questions.  Tell  us  what  complaint  you  have 
to  make  against  us  which  justifies  you  in  attempting  to  de- 
stroy us  and  the  State?  In  the  first  place  did  we  not  bring 
you  into  existence?  Your  father  married  your  mother  by 
our  aid  and  begat  you.  Say  whether  you  have  any  objection 
to  urge  against  those  of  us  who  regulate  marriage  ?  "  Kone, 
I  should  reply.  "  Or  against  those  of  us  who  regulate  the 
system  of  nurture  and  education  of  children  in  which  you 
were  trained?  Were  not  the  laws,  who  have  the  charge  of. 
this,  right  in  commanding  your  father  to  train  you  in  music 
and  gymnastic  ?  "  Right,  I  should  reply.  "  Well,  then,  since 
you  were  brought  into  the  world  and  nurtured  and  educated 
by  us,  can  you  deny  in  the  first  place  that  you  are  our  child 
and  slave,  as  your  fathers  were  before  you?  And  if  this  is 
true  you  are  not  on  equal  terms  with  us;  nor  can  you  think 
that  you  have  a  right  to  do  to  us  what  we  are  doing  to  you. 
Would  you  have  any  right  to  strike  or  revile  or  do  any  other 
evil  to  a  father  or  to  your  master,  if  you  had  one,  when  you 
have  been  struck  or  reviled  by  him,  or  received  some  other 
4 


so 


DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 


evil  at  his  hands? — you  would  not  say  this?  And  because 
we  think  right  to  destroy  you,  do  you  think  that  you  have 
any  right  to  destroy  us  in  return,  and  your  country  as  far 
as  in  you  lies?  And  will  you,  O  professor  of  true  virtue,  say 
that  you  are  justified  in  this?  Has  a  philosopher  like  you 
failed  to  discover  that  our  country  is  more  to  be  valued  and 
higher  and  holier  far  than  mother  or  father  or  any  ancestor, 
and  more  to  be  regarded  in  the  eyes  of  the  gods  and  of  men 
of  understanding?  also  to  be  soothed,  and  gently  and  rev- 
erently entreated  when  angry,  even  more  than  a  father,  and 
if  not  persuaded,  obeyed  ?  And  when  we  are  punished  by  her, 
whether  with  imprisonment  or  stripes,  the  punishment  is  to 
be  endured  in  silence ;  and  if  she  leads  us  to  wounds  or  death 
in  battle,  thither  we  follow  as  is  right;  neither  may  anyone 
yield  or  retreat  or  leave  his  rank,  but  whether  in  battle  or  in 
a  court  of  law,  or  in  any  other  place,  he  must  do  what  his 
city  and  his  country  order  him ;  or  he  must  change  their  view 
of  what  is  just:  and  if  he  may  do  no  violence  to  his  father 
or  mother,  much  less  may  he  do  violence  to  his  country." 
What  answer  shall  we  make  to  this,  Crito?  Do  the  laws 
speak  truly,  or  do  they  not? 

Cr.   I  think  that  they  do. 

Soc.  Then  the  laws  will  say :  "  Consider,  Socrates,  if  this 
is  true,  that  in  your  present  attempt  you  are  going  to  do  us 
wrong.  For,  after  having  brought  you  into  the  world,  and 
nurtured  and  educated  you,  and  given  you  and  every  other 
citizen  a  share  in  every  good  that  we  had  to  give,  we  further 
proclaim  and  give  the  right  to  every  Athenian,  that  if  he  doeS 
not  like  us  when  he  has  come  of  age  and  has  seen  the  ways 
of  the  city,  and  made  our  acquaintance,  he  may  go  where  he 
pleases  and  take  his  goods  with  him ;  and  none  of  us  laws 
will  forbid  him  or  interfere  with  him.  Any  of  you  who  does 
not  like  us  and  the  city,  and  who  wants  to  go  to  a  colony  or 
to  any  other  city,  may  go  where  he  likes,  and  take  his  goods 
with  him.  But  he  who  has  experience  of  the  manner  in 
which  we  order  justice  and  administer  the  State,  and  still 
remains,  has  entered  into  an  implied  contract  that  he  will 
do  as  we  command  him.  And  he  who  disobeys  us  is,  as  we 
maintain,  thrice  wrong:  first,  because  in  disobeying  us  he  is 
disobeying  his  parents ;  secondly,  because  we  are  the  authors 
of  his  education ;   thirdly,  because  he  has  made  an  agreement 


CRITO 


SI 


with  us  that  he  will  duly  obey  our  commands ;  and  he  neither 
obeys  them  nor  convinces  us  that  our  commands  are  wrong; 
and  we  do  not  rudely  impose  them,  but  give  him  the  alterna- 
tive of  obeying  or  convincing  us;  that  is  what  we  offer,  and 
he  does  neither.  These  are  the  sort  of  accusations  to  which, 
as  we  were  saying,  you,  Socrates,  will  be  exposed  if  you 
accomplish  your  intentions;  you,  above  all  other  Athenians." 
Suppose  I  ask,  why  is  this?  they  will  justly  retort  upon  me 
that  I  above  all  other  men  have  acknowledged  the  agree- 
ment. "  There  is  clear  proof,"  they  will  say,  "  Socrates,  that 
we  and  the  city  were  not  displeasing  to  you.  Of  all  Athe- 
nians you  have  been  the  most  constant  resident  in  the  city, 
which,  as  you  never  leave,  you  may  be  supposed  to  love.  For 
you  never  went  out  of  the  city  either  to  see  the  games,  ex- 
cept once  when  you  went  to  the  Isthmus,  or  to  any  other 
place  unless  when  you  were  on  military  service;  nor  did  you 
travel  as  other  men  do.  Nor  had  you  any  curiosity  to  know 
other  States  or  their  laws :  your  affections  did  not  go  beyond 
us  and  our  State;  we  were  your  special  favorites,  and  you 
acquiesced  in  our  government  of  you;  and  this  is  the  State 
in  which  you  begat  your  children,  which  is  a  proof  of  your 
satisfaction.  Moreover,  you  might,  if  you  had  liked,  have 
fixed  the  penalty  at  banishment  in  the  course  of  the  trial — 
the  State  which  refuses  to  let  you  go  now  would  have  let  you 
go  then.  But  you  pretended  that  you  preferred  death  to  exile, 
and  that  you  were  not  grieved  at  death.  And  now  you  have 
forgotten  these  fine  sentiments,  and  pay  no  respect  to  us,  the 
laws,  of  whom  you  are  the  destroyer;  and  are  doing  what 
only  a  miserable  slave  would  do,  running  away  and  turning 
your  back  upon  the  compacts  and  agreements  which  you  made 
as  a  citizen.  And  first  of  all  answer  this  very  question:  Are 
we  right  in  saying  that  you  agreed  to  be  governed  according 
to  us  in  deed,  and  not  in  word  only?  Is  that  true  or  not?" 
How  shall  we  answer  that,  Crito?    Must  we  not  agree? 

Cr.  There  is  no  help,  Socrates. 

Soc.  Then  will  they  not  say :  "  You,  Socrates,  are  break- 
ing the  covenants  and  agreements  which  you  made  with  us  at 
your  leisure,  not  in  any  haste  or  under  any  compulsion  or 
deception,  but  having  had  seventy  years  to  think  of  them, 
during  which  time  you  were  at  liberty  to  leave  the  city,  if  we 
were  not  to  your  mind,  or  if  our  covenants  appeared  to  you 


52 


DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 


to  be  unfair.  You  had  your  choice,  and  might  have  gone  either 
to  Lacedaemon  or  Crete,  which  you  often  praise  for  their 
good  government,  or  to  some  other  Hellenic  or  foreign  State. 
Whereas  you,  above  all  other  Athenians,  seemed  to  be  so 
fond  of  the  State,  or,  in  other  words,  of  us  her  laws  (for 
who  would  like  a  State  that  has  no  laws),  that  you  never 
stirred  out  of  her:  the  halt,  the  blind,  the  maimed,  were 
not  more  stationary  in  her  than  you  were.  And  now  you  run 
away  and  forsake  your  agreements.  Not  so,  Socrates,  if  you 
will  take  our  advice ;  do  not  make  yourself  ridiculous  by 
escaping  out  of  the  city. 

"  For  just  consider,  if  you  transgress  and  err  in  this  sort  of 
way,  what  good  will  you  do,  either  to  yourself  or  to  your 
friends?  That  your  friends  will  be  driven  into  exile  and 
deprived  of  citizenship,  or  will  lose  their  property,  is  tolerably 
certain;  and  you  yourself,  if  you  fly  to  one  of  the  neighbor- 
ing cities,  as,  for  example,  Thebes  or  Megara,  both  of  which 
are  well-governed  cities,  will  come  to  them  as  an  enemy, 
Socrates,  and  their  government  will  be  against  you,  and  all 
patriotic  citizens  will  cast  an  evil  eye  upon  you  as  a  subverter 
of  the  laws,  and  you  will  confirm  in  the  minds  of  the  judges 
the  justice  of  their  own  condemnation  of  you.  For  he  who 
is  a  corrupter  of  the  laws  is  more  than  likely  to  be  corrupter 
of  the  young  and  foolish  portion  of  mankind.  Will  you  then 
flee  from  well-ordered  cities  and  virtuous  men?  anB  is  exist- 
ence worth  having  on  these  terms?  Or  will  you  go  to  them 
without  shame,  and  talk  to  them,  Socrates?  And  what  will 
you  say  to  them?  What  you  say  here  about  virtue  and  justice 
and  institutions  and  laws  being  the  best  things  among  men? 
Would  that  be  decent  of  you?  Surely  not.  But  if  you  go 
away  from  well-governed  States  to  Crito's  friends  in  Thessaly, 
where  there  is  great  disorder  and  license,  they  will  be  charmed 
to  have  the  tale  of  your  escape  from  prison,  set  off  with 
ludicrous  particulars  of  the  manner  in  which  you  were  wrapped 
in  a  goatskin  or  some  other  disguise,  and  metamorphosed 
as  the  fashion  of  runaways  is — that  is  very  likely;  but  wir 
there  be  no  one  to  remind  you  that  in  your  old  age  you  vio- 
lated the  most  sacred  laws  from  a  miserable  desire  of  a  little 
more  life  ?  Perhaps  not,  if  you  keep  them  in  a  good  temper ; 
but  if  they  are  out  of  temper  you  will  hear  many  degrading 
things;   you  will  live,  but  how? — as  the  flatterer  of  all  men. 


CRITO  53 

and  the  servant  of  all  men;  and  doing  what? — eating  and 
drinking  in  Thessaly,  having  gone  abroad  in  order  that  you 
may  get  a  dinner.  And  where  will  be  your  fine  sentiments 
about  justice  and  virtue  then?  Say  that  you  wish  to  live  for 
the  sake  of  your  children,  that  you  may  bring  them  up  and 
educate  them — will  you  take  them  into  Thessaly  and  deprive 
them  of  Athenian  citizenship?  Is  that  the  benefit  which  you 
would  confer  upon  them?  Or  are  you  under  the  impression 
that  they  will  be  better  cared  for  and  educated  here  if  you  are 
still  alive,  although  absent  from  them;  for  that  your  friends 
will  take  care  of  them?  Do  you  fancy  that  if  you  are  an 
inhabitant  of  Thessaly  they  will  take  care  of  them,  and  if 
you  are  an  inhabitant  of  the  other  world  they  will  not  take 
care  of  them?  Nay;  but  if  they  who  call  themselves  friends 
are  truly  friends,  they  surely  will. 

"  Listen,  then,  Socrates,  to  us  who  have  brought  you  up. 
Think  not  of  life  and  children  first,  and  of  justice  afterwards, 
but  of  justice  first,  that  you  may  be  justified  before  the  princes 
of  the  world  below.  For  neither  will  you  nor  any  that  belong 
to  you  be  happier  or  holier  or  juster  in  this  life,  or  happier  in 
another,  if  you  do  as  Crito  bids.  Now  you  depart  in  in- 
nocence, a  sufferer  and  not  a  doer  of  evil ;  a  victim,  not  of  the 
laws,  but  of  men.  But  if  you  go  forth,  returning  evil  for  evil, 
and  injury  for  injury,  breaking  the  covenants  and  agreements 
which  you  have  made  with  us,  and  wronging  those  whom  you 
ought  least  to  wrong,  that  is  to  say,  yourself,  your  friends, 
your  country,  and  us,  we  shall  be  angry  with  you  while  you 
live,  and  our  brethren,  the  laws  in  the  world  below,  will  re- 
ceive you  as  an  enemy;  for  they  will  know  that  you  have 
done  your  best  to  destroy  us.  Listen,  then,  to  us  and  not  to 
Crito." 

This  is  the  voice  which  I  seem  to  hear  murmuring  in  my 
ears,  like  the  sound  of  the  flute  in  the  ears  of  the  mystic; 
that  voice,  I  say,  is  humming  in  my  ears,  and  prevents  me 
from  hearing  any  other.  And  I  know  that  anything  more 
which  you  may  say  will  be  in  vain.  Yet  speak,  if  you  have 
anything  to  say. 

Cr.   I  have  nothing  to  say,  Socrates. 

Soc.  Then  let  me  follow  the  intimations  of  the  will  of  God. 


INTRODUCTION  TO   PH^DO 

AFTER  an  interval  of  some  months  or  years,  at  Phlius, 
a  town  of  Sicyon,  the  tale  of  the  last  hours  of  Soc- 
rates is  narrated  to  Echecrates  and  other  Phliasians 
by  Phaedo,  the  "  beloved  disciple."  The  dialogue  necessarily 
takes  the  form  of  a  narrative,  because  Socrates  has  to  be 
described  acting  as  well  as  speaking.  The  minutest  particu- 
lars of  the  event  are  interesting  to  distant  friends,  and  the 
narrator  has  an  equal  interest  in  them. 

During  the  voyage  of  the  sacred  ship  to  and  from  Delos, 
which  has  occupied  thirty  days,  the  execution  of  Socrates  has 
been  deferred,  (Cp.  Xen.  "  Mem."  iv.  8,  2.)  The  time  has 
been  passed  by  him  in  conversation  with  a  select  company  of 
disciples.  But  now  the  holy  season  is  over,  and  the  disciples 
meet  earlier  than  usual  in  order  that  they  may  converse  with 
Socrates  for  the  last  time.  Those  who  were  present,  and 
those  who  might  have  been  expected  to  be  present,  are  spec- 
ially mentioned.  There  are  Simmias  and  Cebes  ("  Crito," 
45  b),  two  disciples  of  Philolaus  whom  Socrates  "by  his  en- 
chantments has  attracted  from  Thebes  "  ("  Mem."  iii.  11,  17), 
Crito,  the  aged  friend,  the  attendant  of  the  prison,  who  is  as 
good  as  a  friend — these  take  part  in  the  conversation.  There 
are  present  also,  Hermogenes,  from  whom  Xenophon  derived 
his  information  about  the  trial  of  Socrates  ("  Mem."  iv.  8,  4)  ; 
the  "  madman "  ApoUodorus ;  Euclid  and  Terpsion  from 
Megara;  Ctesippus,  Antisthenes  Menexenus,  and  some  other 
less  known  members  of  the  Socratic  circle,  all  of  whom  are 
silent  auditors.  Aristippus  and  Plato  are  noted  as  absent. 
Soon  the  wife  and  children  of  Socrates  are  sent  away,  under 
the  direction  of  Crito;  he  himself  has  just  been  released  from 
chains,  and  is  led  by  this  circumstance  to  make  the  natural 
remark  that  "  pleasure  follows  pain."  (Observe  that  Plato  is 
preparing  the  way  for  his  doctrine  of  the  alternation  of  op- 

55 


56  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

posites.)  "  ^sop  would  have  represented  them  in  a  fable  as 
a  two-headed  creature  of  the  gods."  The  mention  of  ^Esop 
reminds  Cebes  of  a  question  which  had  been  asked  by  Evenus 
the  poet  (cp.  Apol.  20  a)  :  "  Why  Socrates,  who  was  not  a 
poet,  while  in  prison  had  been  putting  .^sop  into  verse  ?  " 
"  Because  several  times  in  his  life  he  had  been  warned  in 
dreams  that  he  should  make  music;  and  as  he  was  about  to 
die  and  was  not  certain  what  was  the  meaning  of  this,  he 
wished  to  fulfil  the  admonition  in  the  letter  as  well  as  in  the 
spirit,  by  writing  verses  as  well  as  by  cultivating  philosophy. 
Tell  Evenus  this  and  bid  him  follow  me  in  death,"  "  He  is 
not  the  sort  of  man  to  do  that,  Socrates."  "  Why,  is  he  not  a 
philosopher?  "  "  Yes."  "  Then  he  will  be  willing  to  die,  al- 
though he  will  not  take  his  own  life,  for  that  is  held  not  to  be 
right." 

Cebes  asks  why  men  say  that  suicide  is  not  right,  if  death  is 
to  be  accounted  a  good  ?  Well  ( i )  according  to  one  explana- 
tion, because  man  is  a  prisoner,  and  is  not  allowed  to  open  the 
door  of  his  prison  and  run  away — this  is  the  truth  in  a  "  mys- 
tery." Or  rather,  perhaps,  (2)  because  man  is  not  his  own 
property,  but  a  possession  of  the  gods,  and  he  has  no  right  to 
make  away  with  that  which  does  not  belong  to  him.  But  why, 
asks  Cebes,  if  he  is  a  possession  of  the  gods,  will  he  wish  to  die 
and  leave  them  ?  for  he  is  under  their  protection ;  and  surely 
he  cannot  take  better  care  of  himself  than  they  take  of  him. 
Simmias  explains  that  Cebes  is  really  referring  to  Socrates, 
whom  they  think  too  unmoved  at  the  prospect  of  leaving  the 
gods  and  his  friends.  Socrates  answers  that  he  is  going  to 
other  gods  who  are  wise  and  good,  and  perhaps  to  better 
friends;  and  he  professes  that  he  is  ready  to  defend  himself 
against  the  charge  of  Cebes.  They  shall  be  his  judges,  and  he 
hopes  that  he  will  be  more  successful  in  convincing  them  than 
he  had  been  in  convincing  the  court. 

The  philosopher  desires  death — which  the  wicked  world  will 
insinuate  that  he  also  deserves :  and  perhaps  he  does,  but  not  in 
any  sense  which  they  are  capable  of  understanding.  Enough 
of  them :  the  real  question  is.  What  is  the  nature  of  that  death 
which  he  desires?  Death  is  the  separation  of  soul  and  body 
— and  the  philosopher  desires  such  a  separation.  He  would 
like  to  be  freed  from  the  dominion  of  bodily  pleasures  and  of 
the  senses,  which  are  always  perturbing  his  mental  vision.     He 


INTRODUCTION  TO  PH^DO  57 

wants  to  get  rid  of  eyes  and  ears,  and  with  the  light  of  the 
mind  only  to  behold  the  light  of  truth.  All  the  evils  and  im- 
purities and  necessities  of  men  come  from  the  body.  And 
death  separates  him  from  these  evils,  which  in  this  life  he 
cannot  wholly  cast  aside.  Why  then  should  he  repine  when 
the  hour  of  separation 'arrives  ?  Why,  if  he  is  dead  while  he 
lives,  should  he  fear  that  other  death,  through  which  alone  he 
can  behold  wisdom  in  her  purity  ? 

Besides,  the  philosopher  has  notions  of  good  and  evil  unlike 
those  of  other  men.  For  they  are  courageous  because  they 
are  afraid  of  greater  dangers,  and  temperate  because  they 
desire  greater  pleasures.  But  he  disdains  this  balancing  of 
pleasures  and  pains ;  he  knows  no  virtue  but  that  which  is  the 
companion  of  wisdom.  All  the  virtues,  including  wisdom,  are 
regarded  by  him  only  as  purifications  of  the  soul.  And  this 
was  the  meaning  of  the  founders  of  the  mysteries  when  they 
said,  "  Many  are  the  wand-bearers,  but  few  are  the  mystics." 
(Cp.  Matt.  xxii.  14:  "  Many  are  called,  but  few  are  chosen.") 
And  in  the  hope  that  he  is  one  of  these  mystics,  Socrates  is 
now  departing.  This  is  his  answer  to  those  who  charge  him 
with  indifference  at  the  prospect  of  leaving  the  gods  and  his 
friends. 

Still,  a  fear  is  expressed  that  the  soul,  upon  leaving  the  body, 
may  vanish  away  like  smoke  or  air.  Socrates,  in  answer,  ap- 
peals first  of  all  to  the  old  Orphic  tradition  that  the  souls  of  the 
dead  are  in  the  world  below,  and  that  the  living  come  from 
them.  This  he  attempts  to  found  on  a  philosophical  assump- 
tion that  all  opposites — e.g.  less,  greater;  weaker,  stronger; 
sleeping,  waking ;  life,  death — are  generated  out  of  each  other. 
Nor  can  this  process  of  generation  be  only  a  passage  from  liv- 
ing to  dying,  for  then  all  would  end  in  death.  The  perpetual 
sleeper  (Endymion)  would  be  no  longer  distinguished,  for 
all  the  world  would  sink  in  rest.  The  circle  of  nature  is  not 
complete  unless  the  living  come  from  the  dead  as  well  as  pass 
to  them. 

The  favorite  Platonic  doctrine  of  reminiscence  is  then  ad- 
duced as  a  confirmation  of  the  pre-existence  of  the  soul.  Some 
proofs  of  this  doctrine  are  demanded.  One  proof  given  is 
derived  from  the  latent  knowledge  of  mathematics,  which  may 
be  elicited  from  an  unlearned  person  when  a  diagram  is  pre- 
sented to  him.     Again,  there  is  a  power  of  association,  which 


58  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

from  seeing  Simmias  may  remember  Cebes,  or  from  seeing  a 
picture  of  Simmias  may  remember  Simmias.  The  lyre  may 
recall  the  player  of  the  lyre,  and  equal  pieces  of  wood  or  stone 
may  be  associated  with  the  higher  notion  of  absolute  equality. 
But  here  observe  that  material  equalities  fall  short  of  the  con- 
ception of  absolute  equality  with  which  they  are  compared, 
and  which  is  the  measure  of  them.  And  the  measure  or  stand- 
ard must  be  prior  to  that  which  is  measured,  the  idea  of  equal- 
ity prior  to  the  visible  equals.  And  if  prior  to  them,  then  prior 
also  to  the  perceptions  of  the  senses  which  recall  them,  and 
therefore  either  given  before  birth  or  at  birth.  But  all  men 
have  not  this  knowledge,  nor  have  any  without  a  process  of 
reminiscence ;  and  this  is  a  proof  that  it  is  not  innate  or  given 
at  birth  (unless  indeed  it  was  given  and  taken  away  at  the 
same  instant,  which  is  absurd).  But  if  not  given  to  men  in 
birth,  it  must  have  been  given  before  birth — this  is  the  only 
alternative  which  remains.  And  if  we  had  ideas  in  a  former 
state,  then  our  souls  must  have  existed  and  must  have  had  in- 
telligence in  a  former  state.  The  pre-existence  of  the  soul 
stands  or  falls  with  the  doctrine  of  ideas. 

It  is  objected  by  Simmias  and  Cebes  that  these  arguments 
only  prove  a  former  and  not  a  future  existence.  Socrates  an- 
swers this  objection  by  recalling  the  previous  argument,  in 
which  he  had  shown  that  the  living  had  come  from  the  dead. 
But  the  fear  that  the  soul  at  departing  may  vanish  into  air 
(especially  if  there  is  a  wind  blowing  at  the  time)  has  not 
yet  been  charmed  away.  He  proceeds:  When  we  fear  that 
the  soul  will  vanish  away,  let  us  ask  ourselves  what  is  that 
we  suppose  to  be  liable  to  dissolution  ?  Is  it  the  simple  or  the 
compound,  the  unchanging  or  the  changing,  the  invisible  idea 
or  the  visible  object  of  sense?  Clearly  the  latter  and  not  the 
former;  and  therefore  not  the  soul,  which  in  her  own  pure 
thought  is  unchangeable,  and  only  when  using  the  senses  de- 
scends into  the  region  of  change.  Again,  the  soul  commands, 
the  body  serves:  in  this  respect,  too,  the  soul  is  akin  to  the 
divine,  and  the  body  to  the  mortal.  And  in  every  point  of 
view  the  soul  is  the  image  of  divinity  and  immortality,  and  the 
body  of  the  human  and  mortal.  And  whereas  the  body  is 
liable  to  speedy  dissolution,  the  soul  is  almost  if  not  quite  in- 
dissoluble. Yet  even  the  body  may  be  preserved  for  ages  by 
the  embalmer's  art;  how  much  more  the  soul  returning  into 


INTRODUCTION  TO  PH^DO  59 

herself  on  her  way  to  the  good  and  wise  God !    She  has  been 

practising  death  all  her  life  long,  and  is  now  finally  released 
from  the  errors  and  follies  and  passions  of  men,  and  forever 
dwells  in  the  company  of  the  gods. 

But  the  soul  which  is  polluted  and  engrossed  by  the  cor- 
poreal, and  has  no  eye  except  that  of  the  senses,  and  is  weighed 
down  by  the  bodily  appetites,  cannot  attain  to  this  abstraction. 
In  her  fear  of  the  world  below  she  lingers  about  her  sepulchre, 
a  ghostly  apparition,  saturated  with  sense,  and  therefore  visi- 
ble. At  length  she  enters  into  the  body  of  some  animal  of  a 
nature  congenial  to  her  former  life  of  sensuality  or  violence, 
and  becomes  an  ass  or  a  wolf  or  a  kite.  And  of  these  earthy 
souls  the  happiest  are  those  who  have  practised  virtue  without 
philosophy ;  they  are  allowed  to  pass  into  gentle  and  civil  nat- 
ures, such  as  bees  and  ants.  But  only  the  philosopher  who 
departs  pure  is  permitted  to  enter  the  company  of  the  gods. 
This  is  the  reason  why  he  abstains  from  fleshly  lusts,  and  not 
from  the  fear  of  loss  or  disgrace,  which  are  the  motives  of 
other  men.  He,  too,  has  been  a  captive,  and  the  willing  agent 
of  his  own  captivity.  But  Philosophy  has  spoken  to  him,  and 
he  has  heard  her  voice;  she  has  gently  entreated  him,  and 
brought  his  soul  out  of  the  "  miry  clay,"  and  purged  away  the 
mists  of  passion  and  the  illusions  of  sense  which  envelop  her, 
and  taught  her  to  resist  the  influence  of  pleasures  and  pains, 
which  are  like  nails  fastening  her  to  the  body.  To  that  prison- 
house  she  will  not  return;  and  therefore  she  abstains  from 
bodily  pleasures — not  from  a  desire  of  having  more  or  greater 
ones,  which  is  the  exchange  of  commerce  and  not  of  virtue, 
but  because  she  knows  that  only  in  the  calm  of  pleasures  and 
passions  she  will  behold  the  light  of  truth. 

Simmias  and  Cebes  remain  in  doubt ;  but  they  are  unwilling 
to  raise  objections  at  such  a  time.  Socrates  wonders  at  this. 
Let  them  regard  him  rather  as  the  swan,  who,  having  sung 
the  praises  of  Apollo  all  his  life  long,  sings  at  his  death  more 
lustily  than  ever.  (Cp.  60  d.)  Simmias  acknowledges  that 
there  is  cowardice  in  not  probing  truth  to  the  bottom.  "  And 
if  truth  divine  and  inspired  is  not  to  be  had,  then  let  a  man 
take  the  best  of  human  notions,  and  upon  this  frail  bark  let 
him  sail  through  life."  He  proceeds  to  state  his  difficulty: 
It  has  been  argued  that  the  soul  is  invisible  and  incorporeal, 
and  therefore  immortal,  and  prior  to  the  body.     But  is  not  the 


6o  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

soul  acknowledged  to  be  a  harmony,  and  has  she  not  the  same 
relation  to  the  body  as  the  harmony — which,  like  her,  is  in- 
visible— has  to  the  lyre?  And  yet  the  harmony  does  not  sur- 
vive the  lyre.  Cebes  has  also  an  objection,  which  like  Sim- 
mias  he  expresses  in  a  figure.  He  is  willing  to  admit  that  the 
soul  is  more  lasting  than  the  body.  But  the  more  lasting 
nature  of  the  soul  does  not  prove  her  immortality;  for  after 
having  worn  out  many  bodies  in  a  single  life,  and  many  more 
in  successive  births  and  deaths,  she  may  at  last  perish,  or,  as 
Socrates  afterwards  restates  the  objection,  the  very  act  of 
birth  may  be  the  beginning  of  her  death,  and  the  last  body 
may  survive  the  last  soul,  just  as  the  coat  of  an  old  weaver  is 
left  behind  him  after  he  is  dead,  although  a  man  is  more  lasting 
than  his  coat.  And  he  who  would  prove  the  immortality  of 
the  soul  must  prove  not  only  that  the  soul  outlives  one  or 
many  bodies,  but  that  she  outlives  them  all. 

The  audience,  like  the  chorus  in  a  play,  for  a  moment  in- 
terpret the  feelings  of  the  actors ;  there  is  a  temporary  depres- 
sion, and  then  the  inquiry  is  resumed.  It  is  a  melancholy  re- 
flection that  arguments,  like  men,  are  apt  to  be  deceivers ;  and 
those  who  have  been  often  deceived  become  distrustful  both 
of  arguments  and  of  friends.  But  this  unfortunate  experi- 
ence should  not  make  us  either  haters  of  men  or  haters  of 
arguments.  The  hatred  of  arguments  is  equally  mistaken, 
whether  we  are  going  to  live  or  die.  At  the  approach  of  death 
Socrates  desires  to  be  impartial,  and  yet  he  cannot  help  feeling 
that  he  has  too  great  an  interest  in  the  truth  of  his  own  ar- 
gument. And  therefore  he  wishes  his  friends  to  examine 
and  refute  him,  if  they  think  that  he  is  not  speaking  the  truth, 

Socrates  requests  Simmias  and  Cebes  to  state  their  objec- 
tions again.  They  do  not  go  to  the  length  of  denying  the 
pre-existence  of  ideas.  Simmias  is  of  opinion  that  the  soul 
is  a  harmony  of  the  body.  But  the  admission  of  the  pre-ex- 
istence of  ideas,  and  therefore  of  the  soul,  is  at  variance  with 
this.  For  a  harmony  is  an  effect,  whereas  the  soul  is  not  an 
effect,  but  a  cause ;  a  harmony  follows,  but  the  soul  leads ;  a 
harmony  admits  of  degrees,  and  the  soul  has  no  degrees. 
Again,  upon  the  supposition  that  the  soul  is  a  harmony,  why 
is  one  soul  better  than  another?  Are  they  more  or  less  har- 
monized, or  is  there  one  harmony  within  another?  But  the 
soul  does  not  admit  of  degrees,  and  cannot  therefore  be  more 


INTRODUCTION  TO  PH^DO  6l 

or  less  harmonized.  Further,  the  soul  is  often  engaged  in  re- 
sisting the  affections  of  the  body,  as  Homer  describes  Odys- 
seus "  rebuking  his  heart."  Could  he  have  written  this  under 
the  idea  that  the  soul  is  a  harmony  of  the  body  ?  Nay ;  rather, 
are  we  not  contradicting  Homer  and  ourselves  in  affirming 
anything  of  the  sort? 

The  goddess  Harmonia,  as  Socrates  playfully  terms  the  ar- 
gument of  Simmias,  has  been  happily  disposed  of;  and  now 
an  answer  has  to  be  given  to  the  Theban  Cadmus.  Socrates 
recapitulates  the  argument  of  Cebes,  which,  as  he  remarks, 
involves  the  whole  question  of  natural  growth  or  causation ; 
about  this  he  proposes  to  narrate  his  own  mental  experience. 
When  he  was  young  he  had  puzzled  himself  with  physics :  he 
had  inquired  into  the  growth  and  decay  of  animals,  and  the 
origin  of  thought,  until  at  last  he  began  to  doubt  the  self-evi- 
dent fact  that  growth  is  the  result  of  eating  and  drinking,  and 
thus  he  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  he  was  not  meant  for 
such  inquiries.  Nor  was  he  less  perplexed  with  notions  of 
comparison  and  number.  At  first  he  had  imagined  himself 
to  understand  differences  of  greater  and  less,  and  to  know 
that  ten  is  two  more  than  eight,  and  the  like.  But  now  those 
very  notions  appeared  to  him  to  contain  a  contradiction.  For 
how  can  one  be  divided  into  two?  or  two  be  compounded  into 
one?  These  are  difficulties  which  Socrates  cannot  answer. 
Of  generation  and  destruction  he  knows  nothing.  But  he  has 
a  confused  notion  of  another  method  in  which  matters  of  this 
sort  are  to  be  investigated. 

Then  he  heard  some  one  reading  out  of  a  book  of  Anaxag- 
oras,  that  mind  is  the  cause  of  all  things.  And  he  said  to  him- 
self:  If  mind  is  the  cause  of  all  things,  mind  must  dispose 
them  all  for  the  best.  The  new  teacher  will  show  me  this 
"  order  of  the  best  "  in  man  and  nature.  How  great  had  been 
his  hopes  and  how  great  his  disappointment!  For  he  found 
that  his  new  friend  was  anything  but  consistent  in  his  use  of 
mind  as  a  cause,  and  that  he  soon  introduced  winds,  waters, 
and  other  eccentric  notions.  It  was  as  if  a  person  had  said 
that  Socrates  is  sitting  here  because  he  is  made  up  of  bones 
and  muscles,  instead  of  telling  the  true  reason — that  he  is  here 
because  the  Athenians  have  thought  good  to  sentence  him  to 
death,  and  he  has  thought  good  to  await  his  sentence.  Had 
his  bones  and  muscles  been  left  by  him  to  their  own  ideas  of 


62  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

right,  they  would  long  ago  have  taken  themselves  off.  But 
surely  there  is  a  great  confusion  of  the  cause  and  condition  in 
all  this.  And  this  confusion  also  leaat.  people  into  all  sorts 
of  erroneous  theories  about  the  position  and  motions  of  the 
earth.  None  of  them  know  how  much  stronger  than  any  Atlas 
is  the  power  of  the  best.  But  this  "  best  "  is  still  undiscovered ; 
and  in  inquiring  after  the  cause,  we  can  only  hope  to  attain  the 
second  best. 

Now  there  is  a  danger  in  the  contemplation  of  the  nature  of 
things,  as  there  is  a  danger  in  looking  at  the  sun  during  an 
eclipse,  unless  the  precaution  is  taken  of  looking  only  at  the 
image  reflected  in  the  water,  or  in  a  glass.  And  I  was  afraid, 
says  Socrates,  that  I  might  injure  the  eye  of  the  soul.  I 
thought  that  I  had  better  return  to  the  old  and  safe  method  of 
ideas.  Though  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  he  who  contemplates 
existence  through  the  medium  of  ideas  sees  only  through  a 
glass  darkly,  any  more  than  he  who  contemplates  actual  effects. 

If  the  existence  of  ideas  is  granted  to  him,  Socrates  is  of 
opinion  that  he  will  then  have  no  difficulty  in  proving  the  im- 
mortally of  the  soul.  He  will  only  ask  for  a  further  admis- 
sion: that  beauty  is  the  cause  of  the  beautiful,  greatness  the 
cause  of  the  great,  smallness  of  the  small,  and  so  on  of  other 
things.  Thus  he  avoids  the  contradictions  of  greater  and  less 
(greater  by  reason  of  that  which  is  smaller!),  of  addition  and 
subtraction,  and  the  other  difficulties  of  relation.  These  sub- 
tleties he  is  for  leaving  to  wiser  heads  than  his  own ;  he  prefers 
to  test  ideas  by  their  consequences,  and,  if  asked  to  give  an 
account  of  them,  goes  back  to  some  higher  idea  or  hypothesis 
which  appears  to  him  to  be  the  best,  until  at  last  he  arrives  at 
a  resting-place. 

The  doctrine  of  ideas,  which  has  long  ago  received  the  as- 
sent of  the  Socratic  circle,  is  now  affirmed  by  the  Phliasian 
auditor  to  command  the  assent  of  any  men  of  sense.  The  nar- 
rative is  continued ;  Socrates  is  desirous  of  explaining  how  op- 
posite ideas  may  appear  to  coexist  but  not  really  coexist  in  the 
same  thing  or  person.  For  example,  Simmias  may  be  said  to 
have  greatness  and  also  smallness,  because  he  is  greater  than 
Socrates  and  less  than  Phsedo.  And  yet  Simmias  is  not  really 
great  and  also  small,  but  only  when  compared  to  Phaedo  and 
Socrates.  I  use  the  illustration,  says  Socrates,  because  I  want 
to  show  you  not  only  that  ideal  opposites  exclude  one  an- 


INTRODUCTION   TO    PH^DO  63 

other,  but  also  the  opposites  in  us.  I,  for  example,  having 
the  attribute  of  smallness  remain  small,  and  cannot  become 
great :   the  smallness  in  me  drives  out  greatness. 

One  of  the  company  here  remarked  that  this  was  incon- 
sistent with  the  old  assertion  that  opposites  generated  oppo- 
sites. But  that,  replies  Socrates,  was  affirmed,  not  of  oppo- 
site ideas  either  in  us  or  in  nature,  but  of  opposite  things — 
not  of  life  and  death,  but  of  individuals  living  and  dying. 
When  this  objection  has  been  removed,  Socrates  proceeds: 
This  doctrine  of  the  mutual  exclusion  of  opposites  is  not  only 
true  of  the  opposites  themselves,  but  of  things  which  are  in- 
separable from  them.  For  example,  cold  and  heat  are  opposed ; 
and  fire,  which  is  inseparable  from  heat,  cannot  coexist  with 
cold,  or  snow,  which  is  inseparable  from  cold,  with  heat. 
Again,  the  number  three  excludes  the  number  four,  because 
three  is  an  odd  number  and  four  is  an  even  number,  and 
the  odd  is  opposed  to  the  even.  Thus  we  are  able  to  proceed 
a  step  beyond  "  the  safe  and  simple  answer."  We  may  say, 
not  only  that  the  odd  excludes  the  even,  but  that  the  num- 
ber three,  which  participates  in  oddness,  excludes  the  even. 
And  in  like  manner,  not  only  does  life  exclude  death,  but  the 
soul,  of  which  life  is  the  inseparable  attribute,  also  excludes 
death.  And  that  of  which  life  is  the  inseparable  attribute 
is  by  the  force  of  the  terms  imperishable.  If  the  odd  principle 
were  imperishable,  then  the  number  three  would  not  perish, 
but  remove  on  the  approach  of  the  even  principle.  But  the 
immortal  is  imperishable;  and  therefore  the  soul  on  the  ap- 
proach of  death  does  not  perish  but  removes. 

Thus  all  objections  appear  to  be  finally  silenced.  And  now 
the  application  has  to  be  made :  If  the  soul  is  immortal,  "  What 
manner  of  persons  ought  we  to  be  ?  "  having  regard  not  only 
to  time  but  to  eternity.  For  death  is  not  the  end  of  all,  and 
the  wicked  is  not  released  from  his  evil  by  death ;  but  every- 
one carries  with  him  into  the  world  below  that  which  he  is 
and  that  which  he  becomes,  and  that  only. 

For  after  death  the  soul  is  carried  away  to  judgment,  and 
when  she  has  received  her  punishment  returns  to  earth  in  the 
course  of  ages.  The  wise  soul  is  conscious  of  her  situation, 
and  follows  the  attendant  angel  who  guides  her  through  the 
windings  of  the  world  below ;  but  the  impure  soul  wanders 
hither  and  thither  without  a  guide,  and  is  carried  at  last  to  her 


64  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

own  place,  as  the  pure  soul  is  also  carried  away  to  hers.  "  In 
order  that  you  may  understand  this,  I  must  first  describe  to 
you  the  nature  and  conformation  of  the  earth." 

Now  the  whole  earth  is  a  globe  placed  in  the  centre  of  the 
heavens,  and  is  maintained  there  by  the  perfection  of  balance. 
That  which  we  call  the  earth  is  only  a  small  hollow,  of  which 
there  are  many ;  but  the  true  earth  is  above,  and  is  a  finer  and 
subtler  element,  and  is  full  of  precious  stones  and  bright  colors, 
of  which  the  stones  and  colors  in  our  earth  are  but  fragments 
and  reflections,  and  the  earth  itself  is  corroded  and  crusted 
over  just  as  the  shore  is  by  the  sea.  And  if,  like  birds,  we 
could  fly  to  the  surface  of  the  air,  in  the  same  manner  that 
fishes  come  to  the  top  of  the  sea,  then  we  should  behold  the 
true  earth  and  the  true  heaven  and  the  true  stars.  This 
heavenly  earth  is  of  divers  colors,  sparkling  with  jewels 
brighter  than  gold  and  whiter  than  any  snow,  having  flowers 
and  fruits  innumerable.  And  the  inhabitants  dwell,  some  on 
the  shore  of  the  sea  of  air,  others  in  "  islets  of  the  blest,"  and 
they  hold  converse  with  the  gods,  and  behold  the  sun,  moon, 
and  stars  as  they  truly  are,  and  their  other  blessedness  is  of  a 
piece  with  this. 

But  the  interior  of  the  earth  has  other  and  deeper  hollows, 
and  one  huge  chasm  or  opening  called  Tartarus,  into  which 
vast  streams  of  water  and  fire  are  ever  flowing  to  and  fro,  of 
which  small  portions  find  their  way  to  the  surface  and  form 
seas  and  rivers  and  volcanoes.  There  is  a  perpetual  inhalation 
and  exhalation  of  the  air  rising  and  falling  as  the  waters  pass 
into  the  depths  of  the  earth  and  return  again,  in  their  course, 
forming  lakes  and  rivers,  but  never  descending  below  the  cen- 
tre of  the  earth,  the  opposite  side  of  which  is  a  precipice  to  the 
rivers  on  both  sides.  These  rivers  are  many  and  mighty,  and 
there  are  four  principal  ones,  Oceanus,  Acheron,  Pyriphleg- 
ethon,  and  Cocytus.  Oceanus  is  the  river  which  encircles  the 
earth;  Acheron  takes  an  opposite  direction,  and  after  flowing 
under  the  earth  and  in  desert  places  at  last  reaches  the  Acheru- 
sian  Lake,  and  this  is  the  river  at  which  the  dead  await  their 
return  to  earth.  Pyriphlegethon  is  a  stream  of  fire,  which 
coils  around  the  earth  and  flows  into  the  depths  of  Tartarus. 
The  fourth  river  (Cocytus)  is  that  which  is  called  by  the  poets 
the  Stygian  River,  and  falls  into,  and  forms  the  Lake  Styx, 
receiving  strange  powers  in  the  waters.  This  river,  too,  falls 
into  Tartarus. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  PH^DO  65 

The  dead  are  first  of  all  judged  according  to  their  deeds, 
and  those  who  are  incurable  are  thrust  into  Tartarus,  from 
which  they  never  come  out.  Those  who  have  only  committed 
venial  sins  are  first  purified  of  them,  and  then  rewarded  for 
the  good  which  they  have  done.  Those  who  have  committed 
crimes,  great  indeed,  but  not  unpardonable,  are  thrust  into 
Tartarus,  but  are  cast  forth  at  the  end  of  the  year  on  the 
shores  of  the  rivers,  where  they  stand  crying  to  their  victims  to 
let  them  come  out,  and  if  they  prevail,  then  they  are  let  out 
and  their  suflFerings  cease ;  if  not,  they  are  borne  in  a  ceaseless 
whirl  along  the  rivers  of « Tartarus.  The  pure  souls  also  re- 
ceive their  reward,  and  have  their  abode  in  the  upper  Qarth, 
and  a  select  few  in  still  fairer  "  mansions." 

Socrates  is  not  prepared  to  insist  on  the  literal  accuracy  of 
this  description,  but  he  is  confident  that  something  of  the  kind 
is  true.  He  who  has  sought  after  the  pleasures  of  knowledge 
and  rejected  the  pleasures  of  the  body  has  reason  to  be  of  good 
hope  at  the  approach  of  death,  whose  voice  is  already  heard 
calling  to  him,  and  will  be  heard  calling  by  all  men. 

The  hour  has  come  at  which  he  must  drink  the  poison,  and 
not  much  remains  to  be  done.  How  shall  they  bury  him? 
That  is  a  question  which  he  refuses  to  entertain,  for  they  are 
not  burying  him,  but  his  dead  body.  His  friends  had  once 
been  sureties  that  he  would  remain,  and  they  shall  now  be 
sureties  that  he  has  run  away.  Yet  he  would  not  die  without 
the  customary  ceremonies  of  washing  and  burial.  Shall  he 
make  a  libation  of  the  poison  ?  In  the  spirit  he  will,  but  not  in 
the  letter.  One  request  he  utters  in  the  very  act  of  death, 
which  has  been  a  puzzle  to  after-ages.  The  puzzle  has  been 
occasioned  by  the  simplicity  of  his  words,  for  there  is  no 
reason  to  suppose  that  they  have  any  hidden  meaning.  With 
a  sort  of  irony  he  remembers  that  a  trifling  religious  duty  is 
still  unfulfilled,  just  as  above  (60  e)  he  is  represented  as  de- 
sirous before  he  departs  to  make  a  few  verses  in  order  to  satisfy 
a  scruple  about  the  meaning  of  a  dream. 

I.  The  doctrine  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul  has  such  a 
great  interest  for  all  mankind  that  they  are  apt  to  rebel  against 
any  examination  of  the  nature  of  their  belief.  They  do  not 
like  to  acknowledge  that  this,  as  well  as  the  other  "  eternal 
ideas  "  of  man,  has  a  history  in  time,  which  may  be  traced  in 
Gr-eek  poetry  or  philosophy,  and  also  in  the  Hebrew  scriptures. 
5 


66  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

They  convert  feeling  into  reasoning,  and  throw  a  network  of 
dialectics  over  that  which  is  really  a  deeply  rooted  instinct. 
In  the  same  temper  which  Socrates  reproves  in  himself  (91  b) 
they  are  disposed  to  think  that  even  bad  arguments  will  do  no 
harm,  for  they  will  die  with  them,  and  while  they  live  they  will 
gain  by  the  delusion.  But  there  is  a  better  and  higher  spirit 
to  be  gathered  from  the  "  Phaedo,"  as  well  as  from  the  other 
writings  of  Plato,  which  says  that  first  principles  should  be 
most  constantly  reviewed  ("  Phaed."  107  b),  and  that  the  high- 
est subjects  demand  of  us  the  greatest  accuracy. 

2.  Modern  philosophy  is  perplexed  at  this  whole  question, 
which  is  sometimes  fairly  given  up  and  handed  over  to  the 
realm  of  faith.  The  perplexity  should  not  be  forgotten  by  us 
when  we  attempt  to  submit  the  "  Phasdo  "  of  Plato  to  the  re- 
quirements of  logic.  For  what  idea  can  we  form  of  the  soul 
when  separated  from  the  body?  Or  how  can  the  soul  be 
united  with  the  body  and  still  be  independent?  Is  the  soul 
related  to  the  body  as  the  ideal  to  the  real,  or  as  the  whole  to 
the  parts,  or  as  the  subject  to  the  object,  or  as  the  cause  to  the 
effect,  or  as  the  end  to  the  means?  Shall  we  say  with  Aris- 
totle, that  the  soul  is  the  entelechy  or  form  of  an  organized 
living  body?  or  with  Plato,  that  she  has  a  life  of  her  own?  Is 
the  Pythagorean  image  of  the  harmony,  or  of  the  monad,  the 
truer  expression?  Is  the  soul  related  to  the  body  as  sight  to 
the  eye,  or  as  the  boatman  to  his  boat?  And  in  another  state 
of  being  is  the  soul  to  be  conceived  of  as  vanishing  into  infinity, 
hardly  possessing  an  existence  which  she  can  call  her  own, 
as  in  the  pantheistic  system  of  Spinoza  and  others?  or  as  an 
individual  spirit  informed  with  another  body  and  retaining  the 
impress  of  her  former  character?  (Cp.  "  Gorgias,"  524  B.C.) 
Or  is  the  opposition  of  soul  and  body  a  mere  illusion,  and  the 
true  self  neither  soul  nor  body,  but  the  union  of  the  two  in  the 
"  I  "  which  is  above  them  ?  And  is  death  the  assertion  of  this 
individuality  in  the  higher  nature,  and  the  falling  away  into 
nothingness  of  the  lower?  Or  are  we  vainly  attempting  to 
pass  the  boundaries  of  human  thought?  The  body  and  the 
soul  seem  to  be  inseparable,  not  only  in  fact,  but  in  our  con- 
ceptions of  them ;  and  any  philosophy  which  too  closely  unites 
them,  or  too  widely  separates  them,  either  in  this  life  or  in 
another,  disturbs  the  balance  of  human  nature.  Neither  Plato 
nor  any  other  philosopher  has  perfectly  adjusted  them,  or  been 


INTRODUCTION  TO  PH^DO  67 

perfectly  consistent  with  himself  in  describing  their  relation  to 
one  another, 

3.  Again,  believing  in  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  we  must 
still  ask  the  question  of  Socrates,  "  What  is  that  which  we  sup- 
pose to  be  immortal  ?  "  Is  it  the  personal  and  individual  ele- 
ment ill  us,  or  the  spiritual  and  universal?  Is  it  the  principle 
of  knowledge  or  of  goodness,  or  the  union  of  the  two?  Is  it 
the  mere  force  of  life  which  is  determined  to  be,  or  the  con- 
sciousness of  self  which  cannot  be  got  rid  of,  or  the  fire  of 
genius  which  refuses  to  be  extinguished?  Or  is  there  a  hid- 
den being  which  is  allied  to  the  Author  of  all  existence,  who 
is  because  he  is  perfect,  and  to  whom  our  ideas  of  perfection 
give  us  a  title  to  belong?  Whatever  answer  is  given  by  us  to 
these  questions,  there  still  remains  the  necessity  of  allowing 
the  permanence  of  evil,  if  not  forever,  at  any  rate  for  a  time, 
in  order  that  the  wicked  "  may  not  have  too  good  a  bargain." 
For  the  annihilation  of  evil  at  death,  or  the  eternal  duration  of 
it,  seems  to  involve  equal  difficulties  in  the  moral  order  of  the 
universe.  Sometimes  we  are  led  by  our  feelings,  rather  than 
by  our  reason,  to  think  of  the  good  and  wise  only  as  existing 
in  another  life.  Why  should  the  mean,  the  weak,  the  idiot, 
the  infant,  the  herd  of  men  who  have  never  in  any  proper  sense 
the  use  of  reason,  reappear  with  blinking  eyes  in  the  light  of 
another  world?  But  our  second  thought  is  that  the  hope  of 
humanity  is  a  common  one,  and  that  all  or  none  have  a  right 
to  immortality.  Reason  does  not  allow  us  to  suppose  that  we 
have  any  greater  claims  than  others,  and  experience  some- 
times reveals  to  us  unexpected  flashes  of  the  higher  nature  in 
those  whom  we  had  despised.  Such  are  some  of  the  distract- 
ing thoughts  which  press  upon  us  when  we  attempt  to  assign 
any  form  to  our  conceptions  of  a  future  state. 

4.  Again,  ideas  must  be  given  through  something;  and  we 
are  always  prone  to  argue  about  the  soul  from  analogies  of 
outward  things  which  may  serve  to  embody  our  thoughts,  but 
are  also  partly  delusive.  For  we  cannot  reason  from  the  nat- 
ural to  the  spiritual,  or  from  the  outward  to  the  inward.  The 
progress  of  physiological  science,  without  bringing  us  nearer 
to  the  great  secret,  has  perhaps  tended  to  remove  some  errone- 
ous notions  respecting  the  relations  of  body  and  mind,  and  in 
this  we  have  the  advantage  of  the  ancients.  But  no  one  im- 
agines that  any  seed  of  immortality  is  to  be  discerned  in  our 


68  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

mortal  frames.  The  result  seems  to  be  that  those  who  have 
thought  most  deeply  on  the  immortality  of  the  soul  have  been 
content  to  rest  their  belief  on  the  agreement  of  the  more  en- 
lightened part  of  mankind,  and  on  the  inseparable  connection 
of  such  a  doctrine  with  the  existence  of  a  God,  and  our  ideas  of 
divine  justice — also  in  a  less  degree  on  the  impossibility  of 
thinking  otherwise  of  those  whom  we  reverence  in  this  world. 
And  after  all  has  been  said,  the  figure,  the  analogy,  the  argu- 
ment, are  felt  to  be  only  approximations  in  different  forms  to 
the  expression  of  the  common  sentiment  of  the  human  heart. 

5.  The  "  Phaedo  "  of  Plato  may  also  be  regarded  as  a  dialec- 
tical approximation  to  the  truth  of  immortality.  Beginning 
in  mystery,  Socrates,  in  the  intermediate  part  of  the  dialogue, 
attempts  to  bring  the  doctrine  of  a  future  life  into  connection 
with  his  theory  of  knowledge.  In  proportion  as  he  succeeds 
in  this,  the  individual  seems  to  disappear  in  a  more  general  no- 
tion of  the  soul ;  the  contemplation  of  ideas  "  under  the  form 
of  eternity  "  takes  the  place  of  past  and  future  states  of  ex- 
istence. His  language  may  be  compared  to  that  of  some  mod- 
ern philosophers,  who  speak  of  eternity,  not  in  the  sense  of 
perpetual  duration  of  time,  but  as  an  ever-present  quality  of 
the  soul.  Yet  at  the  conclusion  of  the  dialogue,  having  "  ar- 
rived at  the  end  of  the  intellectual  world,"  he  replaces  thg  veil 
of  mythology,  and  describes  the  soul  and  her  attendant  genius 
in  the  language  of  the  mysteries  or  of  a  disciple  of  Zoroaster. 
Nor  can  we  fairly  demand  of  Plato  a  consistency  which  is 
wanting  among  ourselves,  who  acknowledge  that  another  world 
is  beyond  the  range  of  human  thought,  and  yet  are  always 
seeking  to  represent  the  mansions  of  heaven  or  hell  in  the  col- 
ors of  the  painter,  or  in  the  descriptions  of  the  poet  or  rheto- 
rician. 

6.  The  doctrine  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul  was  not  new 
to  the  Greeks  in  the  age  of  Socrates,  but,  like  the  unity  of  God, 
had  a  foundation  in  the  popular  belief.  The  old  Homeric  no- 
tion of  a  gibbering  ghost  flitting  away  to  Hades ;  or  of  a  few 
illustrious  heroes  enjoying  the  isles  of  the  blest ;  or  of  an  exist- 
ence divided  between  the  two;  or  the  Hesiodic,  of  righteous 
spirits,  who  become  guardian  angels — had  given  place  in  the 
mysteries  and  the  Orphic  poets  to  representations,  partly  fanci- 
ful, of  a  future  state  of  rewards  and  punishments.  The  reti- 
cence of  the  Greeks  on  public  occasions  and  in  some  part  of 


INTRODUCTION  TO  PH^DO  69 

their  literature  respecting  this  "  underground  "  religion  is  not 
to  be  taken  as  a  measure  of  the  diffusion  of  such  beliefs.  If 
Pericles  in  the  funeral  oration  is  silent  on  the  consolations  of 
immortality,  the  poet  Pindar  and  the  tragedians  on  the  other 
hand  constantly  assume  the  continued  existence  of  the  dead 
in  an  upper  or  under  world.  Darius  and  Laius  are  still  alive ; 
Antigone  will  be  dear  to  her  brethren  after  death ;  the  way  to 
the  palace  of  Cronos  is  found  by  those  who  "  have  thrice  de- 
parted from  evil."  The  tragedy  of  the  Greeks  is  not  "  round- 
ed "  by  this  life,  but  is  deeply  set  in  decrees  of  fate  and  myste- 
rious workings  of  powers  beneath  the  earth.  In  the  caricature 
of  Aristophanes  there  is  also  a  witness  to  the  common  senti- 
ment. The  Ionian  and  Pythagorean  philosophies  arose,  and 
some  new  elements  were  added  to  the  popular  belief.  The 
individual  must  find  an  expression  as  well  as  the  world.  Either 
the  soul  was  supposed  to  exist  in  the  form  of  a  magnet  or  of  a 
particle  of  fire,  or  light,  or  air,  or  water ;  or  of  a  number  or  of 
a  harmony  of  number ;  or  to  be  or  have,  like  the  stars,  a  prin- 
ciple of  motion.  At  length  Anaxagoras,  hardly  distinguish- 
ing between  life  and  mind,  or  between  mind  human  and  divine, 
attained  the  pure  abstraction;  and  this,  like  the  other  abstrac- 
tions of  Greek  philosophy,  sank  deep  into  the  human  intelli- 
gence. The  opposition  of  the  intelligible  and  the  sensible,  and 
of  God  to  the  world,  supplied  an  analogy  which  assisted  in  the 
separation  of  soul  and  body.  If  ideas  were  separable  from 
phenomena,  mind  was  also  separable  from  matter ;  if  the  ideas 
were  eternal,  the  mind  that  conceived  them  was  eternal,  too. 
As  the  unity  of  God  was  more  distinctly  acknowledged,  the 
conception  of  the  human  soul  became  more  developed.  The 
succession,  or  alternation  of  life  and  death,  had  occurred  to 
Heracleitus.  The  Eleatic  Parmenides  had  stumbled  upon  the 
modern  thesis  that  "  thought  and  being  are  the  same."  The 
Eastern  belief  in  transmigration  defined  the  sense  of  individ- 
uality ;  and  some,  like  Empedocles,  fancied  that  the  blood  which 
they  had  shed  in  another  state  of  being  was  crying  against 
them,  and  that  for  thirty  thousand  years  they  were  to  be  "  fugi- 
tives and  vagabonds  upon  the  earth."  The  desire  of  recogniz- 
ing a  lost  love  or  friend  in  the  world  below  ("  Phaedo,"  68)  is 
a  natural  feeling  which,  in  that  age  as  well  as  in  every  other, 
has  given  distinctness  to  the  hope  of  immortality.  Nor  were 
ethical  considerations  wanting,  partly  derived  from  the  neces- 


70  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

sity  of  punishing  the  greater  sort  of  criminals,  whom  no  aveng- 
ing power  of  this  world  could  reach.  The  voice  of  conscience, 
too,  was  heard  reminding  the  good  man  that  he  was  not  alto- 
gether innocent.  To  these  indistinct  longings  and  fears  an 
expression  was  given  in  the  mysteries  and  Orphic  poets:  a 
*'  heap  of  books,"  passing  under  the  names  of  Musaeus  and 
Orpheus  in  Plato's  time,  were  filled  with  notions  of  an  under- 
world. 

7.  Yet  probably  the  belief  in  the  individuality  of  the  soul 
after  death  had  but  a  feeble  hold  on  the  Greek  mind.  Like 
the  personality  of  God,  the  personality  of  man  in  a  future  state 
was  not  inseparably  bound  up  with  the  reality  of  his  existence. 
For  the  distinction  between  th-t;  personal  and  impersonal,  and 
also  between  the  divine  and  human,  was  far  less  marked  to  the 
Greek  than  to  ourselves.  And  as  Plato  readily  passes  from  the 
notion  of  the  good  to  that  of  God,  he  also  passes,  almost  imper- 
ceptibly to  himself  and  his  reader,  from  the  future  life  of  the 
individual  soul  to  the  eternal  being  of  the  absolute  soul.  There 
has  been  a  clearer  statement  and  a  clearer  denial  of  the  belief 
in  modern  times  than  is  found  in  early  Greek  philosophy,  and 
hence  the  comparative  silence  on  the  whole  subject  vvhich  is 
often  remarked  in  ancient  writers,  and  particularly  in  Aris- 
totle. For  Plato  and  Aristotle  are  not  further  removed  in 
their  teaching  about  the  immortality  of  the  soul  than  they  are 
in  their  theory  of  knowledge. 

8.  That  in  an  age  when  logic  was  beginning  to  mould  human 
thought  Plato  should  have  cast  his  belief  in  immortality  into 
a  logical  form,  is  not  surprising.  And  when  we  consider  how 
much  the  doctrine  of  ideas  was  also  one  of  words,  we  cannot 
wonder  that  he  should  have  fallen  into  verbal  fallacies:  early 
logic  is  always  mistaking  the  truth  of  the  form  for  the  truth  of 
the  matter.  It  is  easy  to  see  that  the  alternation  of  opposites 
is  not  the  same  as  the  generation  of  them  out  of  each  other; 
and  that  the  generation  out  of  each  other,  which  is  the  first  ar- 
gument in  the  *'  Phsedo,"  is  at  variance  with  their  mutual  ex- 
clusion of  each  other,  whether  in  themselves  or  in  us,  which  is 
the  last.  For  even  if  we  admit  the  distinction  which  he  draws 
(103)  between  the  opposites  and  the  things  which  have  the 
opposites,  still  individuals  fall  under  the  latter  class ;  and  we 
have  to  pass  out  of  the  region  of  human  hopes  and  fears  to  a 
conception  of  an  abstract  soul  which  is  the  impersonation  of  the 


INTRODUCTION  TO  PH^DO  71 

ideas.  Such  a  conception,  which  in  Plato  himself  is  but  half 
expressed,  is  unmeaning  to  us,  and  relative  only  to  a  particular 
stage  in  the  history  of  thought.  The  doctrine  of  reminiscence 
is  also  a  fragment  of  a  former  world,  which  has  no  place  in  the 
philosophy  of  modern  times.  But  Plato  had  the  wonders  of 
psychology  just  opening  to  him,  and  he  had  not  the  explana- 
tion of  them  which  is  supplied  by  the  analysis  of  language  and 
the  history  of  the  human  mind.  The  question,  "  Whence  come 
our  abstract  ideas  ?  "  he  could  only  answer  by  an  imaginary 
hypothesis.  Nor  is  it  difficult  to  see  that  his  crowning  argu- 
ment is  purely  verbal,  and  is  but  the  expression  of  an  instinctive 
confidence  put  into  a  logical  form :  "  The  soul  is  immortal  be- 
cause it  contains  a  principle  of  imperishableness."  Nor  does 
he  himself  seem  at  all  to  be  aware  that  nothing  is  added  to 
human  knowledge  by  his  "  safe  and  simple  answer,"  that  beauty 
is  the  cause  of  the  beautiful;  and  that  he  is  merely  reassert- 
ing the  Eleatic  being  "  divided  by  the  Pythagorean  numbers," 
against  the  Heracleitean  doctrine  of  perpetual  generation. 
The  answer  to  the  "  very  serious  questions "  of  genera- 
tion and  destruction  is  really  the  denial  of  them.  For  this  he 
would  substitute  a  system  of  ideas,  tested  not  by  experience, 
but  by  their  consequences,  and  not  explained  by  actual  causes, 
but  by  a  higher,  that  is,  more  general,  notion :  consistency  with 
themselves  is  all  that  is  required  of  them. 

9.  To  deal  fairly  with  such  arguments  they  should  not  only 
not  be  separated  from  the  age  to  which  they  belong,  but  they 
should  be  translated  as  far  as  possible  into  their  modern  equiv- 
alents. "  If  the  ideas  of  men  are  eternal,  their  souls  are  eternal, 
and  if  not  the  ideas,  then  not  the  souls."  Such  an  argument 
stands  nearly  in  the  same  relation  to  Plato  and  his  age  as  the 
argument  from  the  existence  of  God  to  immortality  among 
ourselves.  "  If  God  exists,  then  the  soul  exists  after  death ; 
and  if  there  is  no  God,  there  is  no  existence  of  the  soul  after 
death."  For  the  ideas  are  to  his  mind  the  reality,  the  truth, 
the  principle  of  permanence,  as  well  as  of  mind  and  order  in 
the  world.  When  Simmias  and  Cebes  say  that  they  are  more 
strongly  persuaded  of  the  existence  of  ideas  than  they  are  of 
the  immortality  of  the  soul,  they  represent  fairly  enough  the 
order  of  thought  in  Greek  philosophy.  And  we  might  say  in 
the  same  way  that  we  are  more  certain  of  the  existence  of 
God  than  we  are  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  and  are  led 


73  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

by  the  belief  in  the  one  to  a  belief  in  the  other.  The  parallel, 
as  Socrates  would  say,  is  not  perfect,  but  agrees  in  as  far  as  the 
mind  in  either  case  is  regarded  as  dependent  on  something 
above  and  beyond  herself.  Nor  need  we  shrink  from  pressing 
the  analogy  one  step  further :  "  We  are  more  certain  of  our 
ideas  of  truth  and  right  than  we  are  of  the  existence  of  God, 
and  are  led  on  in  the  order  of  thought  from  one  to  the  other." 

lo.  The  main  argument  of  the  '*  Phaedo  "  is  derived  from  the 
existence  of  eternal  ideas  of  which  the  soul  is  a  partaker;  the 
other  argument  of  the  alternation  of  opposites  is  replaced  by 
this.  And  there  have  not  been  wanting  philosophers  of  the 
idealist  school  who  have  imagined  that  the  doctrine  of  the  im- 
mortality of  the  soul  is  a  theory  of  knowledge  only,  and  that 
in  all  that  precedes  Plato  is  preparing  for  this.  Such  a  view 
is  far  from  lying  on  the  surface  of  the  "  Phaedo,"  and  seems 
to  be  inconsistent  with  the  "  Gorgias  "  and  the  "  Republic." 
Those  who  maintain  it  are  immediately  compelled  to  renounce 
the  shadow  which  they  have  grasped,  as  a  play  of  words  only. 
But  the  truth  is  that  Plato  in  his  argument  for  the  immortality 
of  the  soul  has  collected  many  elements  of  proof  or  persuasion, 
ethical  and  mythological  as  well  as  dialectical,  which  are  not 
easily  to  be  reconciled  with  one  another ;  and  he  is  as  much  in 
earnest  about  his  doctrine  of  retribution,  which  is  repeated  in 
all  his  more  ethical  writings,  as  about  his  thory  of  knowledge. 
And  while  we  may  fairly  translate  the  dialectical  into  the  lan- 
guage of  Hegel,  and  the  religious  and  mythological  into  the 
language  of  Dante  or  Bunyan,  the  ethical  speaks  to  us  still  in 
the  same  voice,  reaching  across  the  ages. 

V  II.  Two  arguments  of  this  sort  occur  in  the  "  Phaedo.**  The 
first  may  be  described  as  the  aspiration  of  the  soul  after  another 
sort  of  being.  Like  the  Oriental  or  Christian  ascetic,  the  phi- 
losopher is  seeking  to  withdraw  from  impurities  of  sense,  to 
leave  the  world  and  the  things  of  the  world,  and  to  find  his 
higher  self.  Plato  recognizes  in  these  aspirations  the  foretaste 
of  immortality,  as  Butler  and  Addison  in  modern  times  have 
argued,  the  one  from  the  moral  tendencies  of  mankind,  the 
other  from  the  progress  of  the  soul  towards  perfection.  In 
using  this  argument  Plato  has  certainly  confused  the  soul 
which  has  left  the  body,  with  the  soul  of  the  good  and  wise. 
Such  a  confusion  was  natural,  and  arose  partly  out  of  the 
antithesis  of  soul  and  body.     The  soul  in  her  own  essence,  and 


INTRODUCTION  TO  PH^DO  73 

the  soul  "  clothed  upon  "  with  virtues  and  graces,  were  easily 
interchanged  with  one  another,  because  on  a  subject  which 
passes  expression  the  distinctions  of  language  can  hardly  be 
maintained. 

12.  The  other  ethical  proof  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul  is 
derived  from  the  necessity  of  retribution.  The  wicked  would 
be  too  well  off  if  their  evil  deeds  came  to  an  end.  It  is  not  to 
be  supposed  that  an  Ardiaeus,  an  Archelaus,  an  Ismenias,  could 
ever  have  suffered  the  penalty  of  their  crimes  in  this  world. 
The  manner  in  which  this  retribution  is  accomplished  Plato 
represents  under  the  figure  of  mythology.  Doubtless  he  felt 
that  it  was  easier  to  improve  than  to  invent,  and  that  in  religion 
especially  the  traditional  form  was  required  in  order  to  give 
verisimilitude  to  the  myth.  The  myth,  too,  is  far  more  prob- 
able to  that  age  than  to  ours,  and  may  fairly  be  regarded  as 
"  one  guess  among  many  "  about  the  nature  of  the  earth,  which 
he  cleverly  supports  by  the  indications  of  geology.  Not  that 
he  insists  on  the  absolute  truth  of  his  own  particular  notions: 
"  no  man  of  sense  will  be  confident  of  that ;  but  he  will  be  con- 
fident that  something  of  the  kind  is  true"  (114  d).  As  in 
other  passages  he  wins  belief  for  his  fictions  by  the  moderation 
of  his  statements ;  he  does  not,  like  Dante  or  Swedenborg,  al- 
low himself  to  be  deceived  by  his  own  creations. 

The  dialogue  must  be  read  in  the  light  of  the  situation.  And 
first  of  all  we  are  struck  by  the  calmness  of  the  scene.  Like 
the  spectators  at  the  time,  we  cannot  pity  Socrates,  his  mien 
and  his  language  are  so  noble  and  fearless.  He  is  the  same 
as  he  ever  was,  but  milder  and  gentler,  and  he  has  in  no  degree 
lost  his  interest  in  dialectics ;  the  argument  is  the  greatest  gain 
to  him,  and  he  will  not  forego  the  delight  of  it  in  compliance 
with  the  jailer's  intimation  that  he  should  not  heat  himself  with 
talking.  Some  other  traits  of  his  character  may  be  noted ;  for 
example,  the  courteous  manner  in  which  he  inclines  his  head 
to  the  last  objector,  or  the  ironical  touch,  "  Me  already,  as  the 
tragic  poet  would  say,  the  voice  of  fate  calls  " ;  or  the  deprecia- 
tion of  the  arguments  with  which  "  he  comforted  himself  and 
them  " ;  or  the  allusion  to  the  possibility  of  finding  another 
teacher  among  barbarous  races ;  or  the  mysterious  reference 
to  another  science  (mathematics?)  of  generation  and  destruc- 
tion for  which  he  is  vainly  feeling.  There  is  no  change  in 
him;  only  now  he  is  invested  with  a  sort  of  sacred  character, 


74  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

as  the  prophet  or  priest  of  Apollo  the  god  of  the  festival,  in 
whose  honor  he  first  of  all  composes  a  hymn,  and  then  like  the 
swan  pours  forth  his  dying  lay.  Perhaps  the  extreme  eleva- 
tion of  Socrates  above  his  ow-n  situation,  and  the  ordinary  in- 
terests of  life  (compare  his  jeu  d' esprit,  about  his  burial) 
create  in  the  mind  of  the  reader  an  impression  stronger  than 
could  be  derived  from  arguments  that  such  a  one,  in  his  own 
language,  has  in  him  "  a  principle  which  does  not  admit  of 
death." 

The  other  persons  of  the  dialogue  may  be  considered  under 
two  heads:  (i)  private  friends;  (2)  the  respondents  in  the 
argument. 

First  there  is  Crito,  who  has  been  already  introduced  to  us 
in  the  "  Euthydemus  "  and  the  "  Crito  " ;  he  is  the  equal  in 
years  of  Socrates,  and  stands  in  quite  a  different  relation  to 
him  from  his  younger  disciples.  He  is  a  man  of  the  world 
who  is  rich  and  prosperous  (cp.  the  jest  in  the  "  Euthydemus  " 
304  c),  the  best  friend  of  Socrates,  who  w'ants  to  know  his  last 
commands,  in  whose  presence  he  talks  to  his  family,  and  who 
performs  the  last  duty  of  closing  his  eyes.  It  is  observable, 
too,  that,  as  in  the  "  Euthydemus,"  Crito  shows  no  aptitude  for 
philosophical  discussions.  Nor  among  the  friends  of  Soc- 
rates must  the  jailer  be  forgotten,  who  seems  to  have  been  in- 
troduced by  Plato  in  order  to  show^  the  impression  made  by  the 
extraordinary  man  on  the  common.  The  gentle  nature  of  the 
man  is  indicated  by  his  weeping  at  the  announcement  of  his 
errand  and  then  turning  away,  and  also  by  the  words  of 
Socrates  to  his  disciples :  "  How  charming  the  man  is !  since 
I  have  been  in  prison  he  has  been  always  coming  to  me,  and 
has  been  as  good  as  could  be  to  me."  We  are  reminded,  too, 
that  he  has  retained  this  gentle  nature  amid  scenes  of  death 
and  violence  by  the  contrasts  which  he  draws  between  the 
behavior  of  Socrates  and  of  others  when  about  to  die. 

Another  person  who  takes  no  part  in  the  philosophical  dis- 
cussion is  the  excitable  Apollodorus,  who  testifies  his  grief  by 
the  most  violent  emotions.  Phaedo  is  also  present,  the  "  be- 
loved disciple  "  as  he  may  be  termed,  who  is  described,  if  not 
"  leaning  on  his  bosom,"  as  seated  next  to  Socrates,  who  is  play- 
ing with  his  hair.  At  a  particular  point  the  argument  is  de- 
scribed as  falling  before  the  attack  of  Simmias.  A  sort  of 
despair  is  introduced  in  the  minds  of  the  company.     The  effect 


INTRODUCTION  TO  PH^DO  75 

of  this  is  heightened  by  the  description  of  Phaedo,  who  has 
been  the  eye-witness  of  the  scene,  and  by  the  sympathy  of  his 
Phhasian  auditors,  who  are  beginning  to  think  "  that  they,  too, 
can  never  trust  an  argument  again."  Like  Apollodorus, 
Phaedo  himself  takes  no  part  in  the  argument.  But  the  calm- 
ness of  his  behavior,  "  veiling  his  face  "  when  he  can  no  longer 
contain  his  tears,  contrasts  with  the  passionate  cries  of  the 
other. 

The  two  principal  interlocutors  are  Simmias  and  Cebes,  the 
disciples  of  Philolaus  the  Pythagorean  philosopher  of  Thebes. 
Simmias  is  described  in  the  "  Phsedrus  "  as  fonder  of  an  argu- 
ment than  any  man  living;  and  Cebes,  although  finally  per- 
suaded by  Socrates,  is  said  to  be  the  most  incredulous  of  hu- 
man beings.  It  is  Cebes  who  at  the  commencement  of  the 
dialogue  raises  the  question  why  "  suicide  is  unlawful,"  and 
who  first  supplies  the  doctrine  of  recollection  as  a  confirma- 
tion of  the  argument  of  the  pre-existence  of  the  soul.  It  is 
Cebes  who  urges  that  the  pre-existence  does  not  necessarily 
involve  the  future  existence  of  the  soul,  and  who  brings  for- 
ward the  argument  of  the  weaver  and  his  coat.  To  Simmias, 
on  the  other  hand,  is  attributed  the  notion  that  the  soul  is  a  har- 
mony, which  is  naturally  put  into  the  mouth  of  a  Pythagorean 
disciple.  It  is  Simmias,  too,  who  first  remarks  on  the  uncer- 
tainty of  human  knowledge,  and  only  at  last  concedes  to  the 
argument  such  a  qualified  approval  as  is  consistent  with  the 
feebleness  of  the  human  faculties. 

There  is  no  proof  that  the  conversation  was  ever  actually 
held,  and  the  place  of  the  dialogue  in  the  series  is  doubtful. 
The  doctrine  of  ideas  is  certainly  carried  beyond  the  Socratic 
point  of  view ;  in  no  other  of  the  writings  of  Plato  is  the 
theory  of  them  so  completely  developed.  Whether  the  belief 
in  immortality  can  be  attributed  to  Socrates  or  not  is  uncer- 
tain ;  the  silence  of  the  "  Memorabilia,"  and  of  the  earlier  dia- 
logues of  Plato,  is  an  argument  to  the  contrary.  Yet  in  the 
"  Cyropaedia  "  Xenophon  has  put  language  into  the  mouth  of 
the  dying  Cyrus  which  recalls  the  "  Phaedo,"  and  may  perhaps 
have  been  derived  from  the  teaching  of  Socrates. 

Some  elements  of  the  drama  may  be  noted  in  all  the  dia- 
logues of  Plato.  The  "  Phaedo  "  is  the  tragedy  of  which  Soc- 
rates is  the  protagonist  and  Simmias  and  Cebes  the  secondary 
performers.     No  dialogue  has  a  greater  unity  of  subject  and 


76  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

feeling.  Plato  has  certainly  fulfilled  the  condition  of  Greek, 
or  rather  of  all,  art,  which  requires  that  scenes  of  death  and 
suffering  should  be  clothed  in  beauty.  The  gathering  of  the 
friends  at  the  commencement  of  the  dialogue,  the  dejection  of 
the  audience  at  the  temporary  overthrow  of  the  argument,  the 
picture  of  Socrates  playing  with  the  hair  of  Phaedo,  the  final 
scene,  in  which  Socrates  alone  retains  his  composure — are  mas- 
terpieces of  art.  The  chorus  at  the  end  might  have  interpreted 
the  feeling  of  the  play :  "  There  can  no  evil  happen  to  a  good 
man  in  life  or  death." 


PHtEDO 

persons  of  the  dialogue 

PHwEDO,  who  is  the  narrator  of  ApollodoruS 

the  dialogue   to   Echecrates  Simmias 

of  Phlius  Cebes 

Socrates  Crito 

Attendant  of  the  Prison 
Scene: — The  Prison  of  Socrates 
Place  of  the  Narration  : — Phlius 
Echecrates. 

WERE  you  yourself,  Phaedo,  in  the  prison  with  Socrates 
on  the  day  when  he  drank  the  poison? 
Phcedo.  Yes,  Echecrates,  I  was. 

Ech.  I  wish  that  you  would  tell  me  about  his  death.  What 
did  he  say  in  his  last  hours?  We  were  informed  that  he  died 
by  taking  poison,  but  no  one  knew  anything  more;  for  no 
Phliasian  ever  goes  to  Athens  now,  and  a  long  time  has  elapsed 
since  any  Athenian  found  his  way  to  Phlius,  and  therefore  we 
had  no  clear  account. 

Phced.  Did  you  not  hear  of  the  proceedings  at  the  trial  ? 

Ech.  Yes ;  some  one  told  us  about  the  trial,  and  we  could 
not  understand  why,  having  been  condemned,  he  was  put  to 
death,  as  appeared,  not  at  the  time,  but  long  afterwards.  What 
was  the  reason  of  this  ? 

Phced.  An  accident,  Echecrates.  The  reason  was  that  the 
stern  of  the  ship  which  the  Athenians  send  to  Delos  happened 
to  have  been  crowned  on  the  day  before  he  was  tried. 

Ech.  What  is  this  ship? 

Phcsd.  This  is  the  ship  in  which,  as  the  Athenians  say, 
Theseus  went  to  Crete  when  he  took  with  him  the  fourteen 
youths,  and  was  the  saviour  of  them  and  of  himself.  And 
they  were  said  to  have  vowed  to  Apollo  at  the  time,  that  if  they 
were  saved  they  would  make  an  annual  pilgrimage  to  Delos. 
Now  this  custom  still  continues,  and  the  whole  period  of  the 

77 


78  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

voyage  to  and  from  Dclos,  beginning  when  the  priest  of  Apollo 
crowns  the  stern  of  the  ship,  is  a  holy  season,  during  which  the 
city  is  not  allowed  to  be  polluted  by  public  executions;  and 
often,  when  the  vessel  is  detained  by  adverse  winds,  there  may 
be  a  very  considerable  delay.  As  I  was  saying,  the  ship  was 
crowned  on  the  day  before  the  trial,  and  this  was  the  reason  why 
Socrates  lay  in  prison  and  was  not  put  to  death  until  long  after 
he  was  condemned. 

Ecli.  What  was  the  manner  of  his  death,  Phaedo?  What 
was  said  or  done  ?  And  which  of  his  friends  had  he  with  him  ? 
Or  were  they  not  allowed  by  the  authorities  to  be  present? 
And  did  he  die  alone? 

Phccd.  No ;  there  were  several  of  his  friends    with  him. 

Ech.  If  you  have  nothing  to  do,  I  wish  that  you  would  tell 
me  what  passed,  as  exactly  as  you  can. 

Phccd.  I  have  nothing  to  do,  and  will  try  to  gratify  your 
wish.  For  to  me,  too,  there  is  no  greater  pleasure  than  to  have 
Socrates  brought  to  my  recollection,  whether  I  speak  myself 
or  hear  another  speak  of  him. 

Ech.  You  will  have  listeners  who  are  of  the  same  mind  with 
you,  and  I  hope  that  you  will  be  as  exact  as  you  can. 

Phced.  I  remember  the  strange  feeling  which  came  over  me  at 
being  with  him.  For  I  could  hardly  believe  that  I  was  present 
at  the  death  of  a  friend,  and  therefore  I  did  not  pity  him, 
Echecrates ;  his  mien  and  his  language  were  so  noble  and  fear- 
less in  the  hour  of  death  that  to  me  he  appeared  blessed.  I 
thought  that  in  going  to  the  other  world  he  could  not  be  with- 
out a  divine  call,  and  that  he  w^ould  be  happy,  if  any  man  ever 
was,  when  he  arrived  there ;  and  therefore  I  did  not  pity  him  as 
might  seem  natural  at  such  a  time.  But  neither  could  I  feel 
the  pleasure  which  I  usually  felt  in  philosophical  discourse 
(for  philosophy  was  the  theme  of  which  we  spoke).  I  was 
pleased,  and  I  was  also  pained,  because  I  knew  that  he  was 
soon  to  die,  and  this  strange  mixture  of  feeling  was  shared  by 
us  all ;  we  were  laughing  and  weeping  by  turns,  especially  the 
excitable  Apollodorus — you  know  the  sort  of  man? 

Ech.  Yes. 

Phcrd.  He  was  quite  overcome ;  and  I  myself,  and  all  of  us 
were  greatly  moved. 

Ech.  Who  were  present? 

Phccd.  Of  native  Athenians  there  were,  besides  Apollodorus, 


PH^DO  79 

Critobulus  and  his  father  Crito,  Hermogenes,  Epigenes, 
yEschines,  and  Antisthenes;  hkewise  Ctesippus  of  the  deme 
of  Paeania,  Menexenus,  and  some  others ;  but  Plato,  if  I  am  not 
mistaken,  was  ill. 

Ech.  Were  there  any  strangers? 

Phcpd.  Yes,  there  were;  Simmias  the  Theban,  and  Cebes, 
and  Phaedondes ;  Euclid  and  Terpison,  who  came  from  Megara. 

Ech.  And  was  Aristippus  there,  and  Cleombrotus? 

Phccd.  No,  they  were  said  to  be  in  ^gina. 

Ech.  Anyone  else  ? 

Phced.  1  think  that  these  were  about  all, 

Ech.  And  what  was  the  discourse  of  which  you  spoke  ? 

Phccd.  I  will  begin  at  the  beginning,  and  endeavor  to  repeat 
the  entire  conversation.  You  must  understand  that  we  had 
been  previously  in  the  habit  of  assembling  early  in  the  morn- 
ing at  the  court  in  which  the  trial  was  held,  and  which  is  not  far 
from  the  prison.  There  we  remained  talking  with  one  another 
until  the  opening  of  the  prison  doors  (for  they  were  not 
opened  very  early),  and  then  went  in  and  generally  passed  the 
day  with  Socrates.  On  the  l^st  morning  the  meeting  was 
earlier  than  usual ;  this  was  owing  to  our  having  heard  on  the 
previous  evening  that  the  sacred  ship  had  arrived  from  Delos, 
and  therefore  we  agreed  to  meet  very  early  at  the  accustomed 
place.  On  our  going  to  the  prison,  the  jailer  who  answered 
the  door,  instead  of  admitting  us,  came  out  and  bade  us  wait 
and  he  w'ould  call  us.  "  For  the  Eleven,"  he  said,  "  are  now 
with  Socrates ;  they  are  taking  off  his  chains,  and  giving  orders 
that  he  is  to  die  to-day."  He  soon  returned  and  said  that  we 
might  come  in.  On  entering  we  found  Socrates  just  released 
from  chains,  and  Xanthippe,  whom  you  know,  sitting  by  him, 
and  holding  his  child  in  her  arms.  When  she  saw  us  she  ut- 
tered a  cry  and  said,  as  women  will:  "  O  Socrates,  this  is  the 
last  time  that  either  you  will  converse  with  your  friends,  or 
they  with  you."  Socrates  ^urned  to  Crito  and  said :  "  Crito, 
let  some  one  take  her  home."  Some  of  Crito's  people  accord- 
ingly led  her  away,  crying  out  and  beating  herself.  And  when 
she  was  gone,  Socrates,  sitting  up  on  the  couch,  began  to  bend 
and  rub  his  leg,  saying,  as  he  rubbed :  "  How  singular  is  the 
thing  called  pleasure,  and  how  curiously  related  to  pam,  which 
might  be  thought  to  be  the  opposite  of  it ;  for  they  never  come 
to  a  man  together,  and  yet  he  who  pursues  either  of  them  is 


So  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

generally  compelled  to  take  the  other.  They  are  two,  and  yet 
they  grow  together  out  of  one  head  or  stem ;  and  I  cannot  help 
thinking  that  if  ^sop  had  noticed  them,  he  would  have  made 
a  fable  about  God  trying  to  reconcile  their  strife,  and  when  he 
could  not,  he  fastened  their  heads  together;  and  this  is  the 
reason  why  when  one  comes  the  other  follows,  as  I  find  in  my 
own  case  pleasure  comes  following  after  the  pain  in  my  leg, 
which  was  caused  by  the  chain." 

Upon  this  Cebes  said :  I  am  very  glad  indeed,  Socrates,  that 
you  mentioned  the  name  of  ^sop.  For  that  reminds  me  of  a 
question  which  has  been  asked  by  others,  and  was  asked  of  me 
only  the  day  before  yesterday  by  Evenus  the  poet,  and  as  he  will 
be  sure  to  ask  again,  you  may  as  well  tell  me  what  I  should  say 
to  him,  if  you  would  Hke  him  to  have  an  answer.  He  wanted 
to  know  why  you  who  never  before  wrote  a  line  of  poetry,  now 
that  you  are  in  prison  are  putting  ^sop  into  verse,  and  also 
composing  that  hymn  in  honor  of  Apollo. 

Tell  him,  Cebes,  he  replied,  that  I  had  no  idea  of  rivalling 
him  or  his  poems ;  which  is  the  truth,  for  I  knew  that  I  could 
not  do  that.  But  I  wanted  to  see  whether  I  could  purge  away 
a  scruple  which  I  felt  about  certain  dreams.  In  the  course  of 
my  life  I  have  often  had  intimations  in  dreams  "  that  I  should 
make  music."  The  same  dream  came  to  me  sometimes  in 
one  form,  and  sometimes  in  another,  but  always  saying  the 
same  or  nearly  the  same  words :  Make  and  cultivate  music,  said 
the  dream.  And  hitherto  I  had  imagined  that  this  was  only 
intended  to  exhort  and  encourage  me  in  the  study  of  philoso- 
phy, which  has  always  been  the  pursuit  of  my  life,  and  is  the 
noblest  and  best  of  music.  The  dream  was  bidding  me  do 
what  I  was  already  doing,  in  the  same  way  that  the  competitor 
in  a  race  is  bidden  by  the  spectators  to  run  when  he  is  already 
'  running.  But  I  was  not  certain  of  this,  as  the  dream  might 
have  meant  music  in  the  popular  sense  of  the  word,  and  being 
under  sentence  of  death,  and  the  festival  giving  me  a  respite,  I 
thought  that  I  should  be  safer  if  I  satisfied  the  scruple,  and,  in 
obedience  to  the  dream,  composed  a  few  verses  before  I  de- 
parted. And  first  I  made  a  hymn  in  honor  of  the  god  of  the 
festival,  and  then  considering  that  a  poet,  if  he  is  really  to  be  a 
poet  or  maker,  should  not  only  put  words  together  but  make 
stories,  and  as  I  have  no  invention.  I  took  some  fables  of  yEsop, 
which  I  had  ready  at  hand  and  knew,  and  turned  them  into 


/  PH^DO  8 1 

verse.  Tell  Evenus  this,  and  bid  him  be  of  good  cheer;  say 
that  I  would  have  him  come  after  me  if  he  be  a  wise  man,  and 
not  tarry ;  and  that  to-day  I  am  likely  to  be  going,  for  the 
Athenians  say  that  I  must. 

Simmias  said :  What  a  message  for  such  a  man !  having  been 
a  frequent  companion  of  his  I  should  say  that,  as  far  as  I  know 
him,  he  will  never  take  your  advice  unless  he  is  obliged. 

Why,  said  Socrates.     Is  not  Evenus  a  philosopher  ? 

I  think  that  he  is,  said  Simmias. 

Then  he,  or  any  man  who  has  the  spirit  of  philosophy,  will  be 
willing  to  die,  though  he  will  not  take  his  own  life,  for  that  is 
held  not  to  be  right. 

Here  he  changed  his  position,  and  put  his  legs  oflf  the  couch 
onto  the  ground,  and  during  the  rest  of  the  conversation  he 
remained  sitting. 

Why  do  you  say,  inquired  Cebes,  that  a  man  ought  not  to 
take  his  own  life,  but  that  the  philosopher  will  be  ready  to  follow 
the  dying? 

Socrates  replied:  And  have  you,  Cebes  and  Simmias,  who 
are  acquainted  with  Philolaus,  never  heard  him  speak  of  this  ? 

I  never  understood  him,  Socrates. 

My  words,  too,  are  only  an  echo ;  but  I  am  very  willing  to 
say  what  I  have  heard :  and  indeed,  as  I  am  going  to  another 
place,  I  ought  to  be  thinking  and  talking  of  the  nature  of  the 
pilgrimage  which  I  am  about  to  make.  What  can  I  do  better 
in  the  interval  between  this  and  the  setting  of  the  sun  ? 

Then  tell  me,  Socrates,  why  is  suicide  held  not  to  be  right  ? 
as  I  have  certainly  heard  Philolaus  affirm  when  he  was  staying 
with  us  at  Thebes:  and  there  are  others  who  say  the  same, 
although  none  of  them  has  ever  made  me  understand  him. 

But  do  your  best,  replied  Socrates,  and  the  day  may  come 
when  you  will  understand.  I  suppose  that  you  wonder  why, 
as  most  things  which  are  evil  may  be  accidentally  good,  this  is 
to  be  the  only  exception  (for  may  not  death,  too,  be  better  than 
life  in  some  cases?),  and  why,  when  a  man  is  better  dead,  he  is 
not  permitted  to  be  his  own  benefactor,  but  must  wait  for  the 
hand  of  another. 

By  Jupiter !  yes,  indeed,  said  Cebes,  laughing,  and  speaking 
in  his  native  Doric. 

I  admit  the  appearance  of  inconsistency,  replied  Socrates,  but 
there  may  not  be  any  real  inconsistencv  after  all  in  this.  There 
6  ^  -  ' 


83  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

is  a  doctrine  uttered  in  secret  that  man  is  a  prisoner  who  has 
no  right  to  open  the  door  of  his  prison  and  run  away ;  this  is  a 
great  mystery  which  I  do  not  quite  understand.  Yet  I,  too, 
believe  that  the  gods  are  our  guardians,  and  that  we  are  a  pos- 
session of  theirs.     Do  you  not  agree  ? 

Yes,  I  agree  to  that,  said  Cebes. 

And  if  one  of  your  own  possessions,  an  ox  or  an  ass,  for  ex- 
ample, took  the  liberty  of  putting  himself  out  of  the  way  when 
you  had  given  no  intimation  of  your  wish  that  he  should  die, 
would  you  not  be  angry  with  him,  and  would  you  not  punish 
him  if  you  could  ? 

Certainly,  replied  Cebes. 

Then  there  may  be  reason  in  saying  that  a  man  should  wait, 
and  not  take  his  own  life  until  God  summons  him,  as  he  is  now 
summoning  me. 

Yes,  Socrates,  said  Cebes,  there  is  surely  reason  in  that.  And 
yet  how  can  you  reconcile  this  seemingly  true  belief  that  God  is 
our  guardian  and  we  his  possessions,  with  that  willingness  to 
die  which  we  were  attributing  to  the  philosopher?  That  the 
wisest  of  men  should  be  willing  to  leave  this  service  in  which 
they  are  ruled  by  the  gods  who  are  the  best  of  rulers  is  not 
reasonable,  for  surely  no  wise  man  thinks  that  when  set  at  lib- 
erty he  can  take  better  care  of  himself  than  the  gods  take  of 
him.  A  fool  may  perhaps  think  this — he  may  argue  that  he 
had  better  run  away  from  his  master,  not  considering  that  his 
duty  is  to  remain  to  the  end,  and  not  to  run  away  from  the  good, 
and  that  there  is  no  sense  in  his  running  away.  But  the  wise 
man  will  want  to  be  ever  with  him  who  is  better  than  himself. 
Now  this,  Socrates,  is  the  reverse  of  what  was  just  now  said ; 
for  upon  this  view  the  wise  man  should  sorrow  and  the  fool 
rejoice  at  passing  out  of  life. 

The  earnestness  of  Cebes  seemed  to  please  Socrates.  Here, 
said  he,  turning  to  us,  is  a  man  who  is  always  inquiring,  and  is 
not  to  be  convinced  all  in  a  moment,  nor  by  every  argument. 

And  in  this  case,  added  Simmias,  his  objection  does  appear 
to  me  to  have  some  force.  For  what  can  be  the  meaning  of  a 
truly  wise  man  wanting  to  fly  away  and  lightly  leave  a  master 
who  is  better  than  himself  ?  And  I  rather  imagine  that  Cebes 
is  referring  to  you ;  he  thinks  that  you  are  too  ready  to  leave 
us,  and  too  ready  to  leave  the  gods  who,  as  you  acknowledge, 
are  our  good  rulers. 


PHyEDO  83 

Yes,  replied  Socrates ;  there  is  reason  in  that.  And  this  in- 
dictment you  think  that  I  ought  to  answer  as  if  I  were  in  court  ? 

That  is  what  we  should  like,  said  Simmias. 

Then  I  must  try  to  make  a  better  impression  upon  you  than 
I  did  when  defending  myself  before  the  judges.  For  I  am 
quite  ready  to  acknowledge,  Simmias  and  Cebes,  that  I  ought 
to  be  grieved  at  death,  if  I  were  not  persuaded  that  I  am  going 
to  other  gods  who  are  wise  and  good  (of  this  I  am  as  certain 
as  I  can  be  of  anything  of  the  sort)  and  to  men  departed  (though 
I  am  not  so  certain  of  this),  who  are  better  than  those  whom  I 
leave  behind ;  and  therefore  I  do  not  grieve  as  I  might  have 
done,  for  I  have  good  hope  that  there  is  yet  something  remain- 
ing for  the  dead,  and,  as  has  been  said  of  old,  some  far  better 
thing  for  the  good  than  for  the  evil. 

But  do  you  mean  to  take  away  your  thoughts  with  you, 
Socrates?  said  Simmias.  Will  you  not  communicate  them  to 
us? — the  benefit  is  one  in  which  we  too  may  hope  to  share. 
Moreover,  if  you  succeed  in  convincing  us,  that  will  be  an  an- 
swer to  the  charge  against  yourself. 

I  will  do  my  best,  replied  Socrates.  But  you  must  first  let 
me  hear  what  Crito  wants ;  he  was  going  to  say  something  to 
me. 

Only  this,  Socrates,  replied  Crito:  the  attendant  who  is  to 
give  you  the  poison  has  been  telling  me  that  you  are  not  to  talk 
much,  and  he  wants  me  to  let  you  know  this ;  for  that  by  talk- 
ing, heat  is  increased,  and  this  interferes  with  the  action  of  the 
poison ;  those  who  excite  themselves  are  sometimes  obliged  to 
drink  the  poison  two  or  three  times. 

Then,  said  Socrates,  let  him  mind  his  business  and  be  pre- 
pared to  give  the  poison  two  or  three  times,  if  necessary ;  that 
is  all. 

I  was  almost  certain  that  you  would  say  that,  replied  Crito ; 
^>    but  I  was  obliged  to  satisfy  him. 

Never  mind  him,  he  said. 

And  now  I  will  make  answer  to  you,  O  my  judges,  and  show 
that  he  who  has  lived  as  a  true  philosopher  has  reason  to  be  of 
good  cheer  when  he  is  about  to  die,  and  that  after  death  he  may 
hope  to  receive  the  greatest  good  in  the  other  world.  And  how 
this  may  be,  Simmias  and  Cebes,  I  will  endeavor  to  explain. 
For  I  deem  that  the  true  disciple  of  philosophy  is  likely  to  be 
misunderstood  by  other  men ;  they  do  not  perceive  that  he  is 


84  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

ever  pursuing  death  and  dying ;  and  if  this  is  true,  why,  having 
had  the  desire  of  death  all  his  life  long,  should  he  repine  at  the 
arrival  of  that  which  he  has  been  always  pursuing  and  desiring? 

Simmias  laughed  and  said :  Though  hot  in  a  laughing  humor, 
I  swear  that  I  cannot  help  laughing  when  I  think  what  the 
wicked  world  will  say  when  they  hear  this.  They  will  say  that 
this  is  very  true,  and  our  people  at  home  will  agree  with  them 
in  saying  that  the  life  which  philosophers  desire  is  truly  death, 
and  that  they  have  found  them  out  to  be  deserving  of  the  death 
which  they  desire. 

And  they  are  right,  Simmias,  in  saying  this,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  words  "  They  have  found  them  out  " ;  for  they  have 
not  found  out  what  is  the  nature  of  this  death  which  the  true 
philosopher  desires,  or  how  he  deserves  or  desires  death.  But 
let  us  leave  them  and  have  a  word  with  ourselves :  Do  we  believe 
that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  death  ? 

To  be  sure,  replied  Simmias. 

And  is  this  anything  but  the  separation  of  soul  and  body  ? 
And  being  dead  is  the  attainment  of  this  separation  when  the 
soul  exists  in  herself,  and  is  parted  from  the  body  and  the  body 
is  parted  from  the  soul — that  is  death  ? 

Exactly:  that  and  nothing  else,  he  replied. 

And  what  do  you  say  of  another  question,  my  friend,  about 
which  I  should  like  to  have  your  opinion,  and  the  answer  to 
which  will  probably  throw  light  on  our  present  inquiry  :  Do  you 
think  that  the  philosopher  ought  to  care  about  the  pleasures — 
if  they  are  to  be  called  pleasures — of  eating  and  drinking? 

Certainly  not,  answered  Simmias. 

And  what  do  you  say  of  the  pleasures  of  love — should  he  care 
about  them? 

By  no  means. 

And  will  he  think  much  of  the  other  ways  of  indulging  the 
body — for  example,  the  acquisition  of  costly  raiment,  or  san- 
dals, or  other  adornments  of  the  body?  Instead  of  caring 
about  them,  does  he  not  rather  despise  anything  more  than 
nature  needs?    What  do  you  say? 

I  should  say  that  the  true  philosopher  would  despise  them. 

Would  you  not  say  that  he  is  entirely  concerned  with  the  soul 
and  not  with  the  body  ?  He  would  like,  as  far  as  he  can,  to  be 
quit  of  the  body  and  turn  to  the  soul. 

That  is  true. 


PH^DO  85 

In  matters  of  this  sort  philosophers,  above  all  other  men,  may 
be  observed  in  every  sort  of  way  to  dissever  the  soul  from  the 
body. 

That  is  true. 

Whereas,  Simmias,  the  rest  of  the  world  are  of  opinion  that  a 
life  which  has  no  bodily  pleasures  and  no  part  in  them  is  not 
worth  having ;  but  that  he  who  thinks  nothing  of  bodily  pleas- 
ures is  almost  as  though  he  were  dead. 

That  is  quite  true. 

What  again  shall  we  say  of  the  actual  requirement  of  knowl- 
edge ? — is  the  body,  if  invited  to  share  in  the  inquiry,  a  hinderer 
or  a  helper  ?  I  mean  to  say,  have  sight  and  hearing  any  truth 
in  them?  Are  they  not,  as  the  poets  are  always  telling  us, 
inaccurate  witnesses  ?  and  yet,  if  even  they  are  inaccurate  and 
indistinct,  what  is  to  be  said  of  the  other  senses  ? — for  you  will 
allow  that  they  are  the  best  of  them  ? 

Certainly,  he  replied. 

Then  when  does  the  soul  attain  truth  ? — for  in  attempting  to 
consider  anything  in  company  with  the  body  she  is  obviously 
deceived. 

Yes,  that  is  true. 

Then  must  not  existence  be  revealed  to  her  in  thought,  if  at 
all? 

Yes. 

And  thought  is  best  when  the  mind  is  gathered  into  herself 
and  none  of  these  things  trouble  her — neither  sounds  nor  sights 
nor  pain  nor  any  pleasure — when  she  has  as  little  as  possible 
to  do  with  the  body,  and  has  no  bodily  sense  or  feeHng,  but  is 
aspiring  after  being? 

That  is  true. 

And  in  this  the  philosopher  dishonors  the  body  ;  his  soul  runs 
away  from  the  body  and  desires  to  be  alone  and  by  herself? 

That  is  true. 

Well,  but  there  is  another  thing,  Simmias :  Is  there  or  is  there 
not  an  absolute  justice  ? 

Assuredly  there  is. 

And  an  absolute  beauty  and  absolute  good  ? 

Of  course. 

But  did  you  ever  behold  any  of  them  with  your  eyes? 

Certainly  not. 

Or  did  you  ever  reach  them  with  any  other  bodily  sense? 


86  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

(and  I  speak  not  of  these  alone,  but  of  absolute  greatness,  and 
health,  and  strength,  and  of  the  essence  or  true  nature  of  every- 
thing). Has  the  reality  of  them  ever  been  perceived  by  you 
through  the  bodily  organs?  or  rather,  is  not  the  nearest  ap- 
proach to  the  knowledge  of  their  several  natures  made  by  him 
who  so  orders  his  intellectual  vision  as  to  have  the  most  exact 
conception  of  the  essence  of  that  which  he  considers  ? 

Certainly. 

And  he  attains  to  the  knowledge  of  them  in  their  highest 
purity  who  goes  to  each  of  them  with  the  mind  alone,  not 
allowing  when  in  the  act  of  thought  the  intrusion  or  introduc- 
tion of  sight  or  any  other  sense  in  the  company  of  reason,  but 
with  the  very  light  of  the  mind  in  her  clearness  penetrates  into 
the  very  light  of  truth  in  each ;  he  has  got  rid,  as  far  as  he  can, 
of  eyes  and  ears  and  of  the  whole  body,  which  he  conceives  of 
only  as  a  disturbing  element,  hindering  the  soul  from  the  ac- 
quisition of  knowledge  when  in  company  with  her — is  not  this 
the  sort  of  man  who,  if  ever  man  did,  is  likely  to  attain  the 
knowledge  of  existence  ? 

There  is  admirable  truth  in  that,  Socrates,  replied  Simmias. 

And  when  they  consider  all  this,  must  not  true  philosophers 
make  a  reflection,  of  which  they  will  speak  to  one  another  in 
such  words  as  these :  We  have  found,  they  will  say,  a  path  of 
speculation  which  seems  to  bring  us  and  the  argument  to  the 
conclusion  that  while  we  are  in  the  body,  and  while  the  soul  is 
mingled  with  this  mass  of  evil,  our  desire  will  not  be  satisfied, 
and  our  desire  is  of  the  truth.  For  the  body  is  a  source  of  end- 
less trouble  to  us  by  reason  of  the  mere  requirement  of  food ; 
and  also  is  liable  to  diseases  which  overtake  and  impede  us  in 
the  search  after  truth :  and  by  filling  us  so  full  of  loves,  and 
lusts,  and  fears,  and  fancies,  and  idols,  and  every  sort  of  folly, 
prevents  our  ever  having,  as  people  say,  so  much  as  a  thought. 
For  whence  come  wars,  and  lightings,  and  factions?  whence 
but  from  the  body  and  the  lusts  of  the  body?  For  wars  are 
occasioned  by  the  love  of  money,  and  money  has  to  be  acquired 
for  the  sake  and  in  the  service  of  the  body ;  and  in  consequence 
of  all  these  things  the  time  which  ought  to  be  given  to  philoso- 
phy is  lost.  Moreover,  if  there  is  time  and  an  inclination 
toward  philosophy,  yet  the  body  introduces  a  turmoil  and  con- 
fusion and  fear  into  the  cours.^  of  speculation,  and  hinders  us 
from  seeing  the  truth  ;  and  all  experience  shows  that  if  we  would 


PH^DO  87 

have  pure  knowledge  of  anything  we  must  be  quit  of  the  body, 
and  the  soul  in  herself  must  behold  all  things  in  themselves : 
then  I  suppose  that  we  shall  attain  that  which  we  desire,  and  of 
which  we  say  that  we  are  lovers,  and  that  is  wisdom ;  not  while 
we  live,  but  after  death,  as  the  argument  shows ;  for  if  while  in 
company  with  the  body  the  soul  cannot  have  pure  knowledge, 
one  of  two  things  seems  to  follow — either  knowledge  is  not  to 
be  attained  at  all,  or,  if  at  all,  after  death.  For  then,  and  not 
till  then,  the  soul  will  be  in  herself  alone  and  without  the  body. 
In  this  present  life,  I  reckon  that  we  make  the  nearest  approach 
to  knowledge  when  we  have  the  least  possible  concern  or  inter- 
est in  the  body,  and  are  not  saturated  with  the  bodily  nature, 
but  remain  pure  until  the  hour  when  God  himself  is  pleased  to 
release  us.  And  when  the  foolishness  of  the  body  will  be 
cleared  away  and  we  shall  be  pure  and  hold  converse  with  other 
pure  souls,  and  know  of  ourselves  the  clear  light  everywhere; 
and  this  is  surely  the  light  of  truth.  For  no  impure  thing  is 
allowed  to  approach  the  pure.  These  are  the  sort  of  words, 
Simmias,  which  the  true  lovers  of  wisdom  cannot  help  saying  to 
one  another,  and  thinking.     You  will  agree  with  me  in  that  ? 

Certainly,  Socrates. 

But  if  this  is  true,  O  my  friend,  then  there  is  great  hope  that, 
going  whither  I  go,  I  shall  there  be  satisfied  with  that  which 
has  been  the  chief  concern  of  you  and  me  in  our  past  lives. 
And  now  that  the  hour  of  departure  is  appointed  to  me,  this  is 
the  hope  with  which  I  depart,  and  not  I  only,  but  every  man 
who  believes  that  he  has  his  mind  purified. 

Certainly,  replied  Simmias. 

And  what  is  purification  but  the  separation  of  the  soul  from 
the  body,  as  I  was  saying  before ;  the  habit  of  the  soul  gathering 
and  collecting  herself  into  herself,  out  of  all  the  courses  of  the 
body ;  the  dwelling  in  her  own  place  alone,  as  in  another  life, 
so  also  in  this,  as  far  as  she  can ;  the  release  of  the  soul  from 
the  chains  of  the  body  ? 

Very  true,  he  said. 

And  what  is  that  which  is  termed  death,  but  this  very  separa- 
tion and  release  of  the  soul  from  the  body  ? 

To  be  sure,  he  said. 

And  the  true  philosophers,  and  they  only,  study  and  are 
eager  to  release  the  soul.  Is  not  the  separation  and  release  of 
the  soul  from  the  body  their  especial  study  ? 


88  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

That  is  true. 

And  as  I  was  saying  at  first,  there  would  be  a  ridiculous  con- 
tradiction in  men  studying  to  live  as  nearly  as  they  can  in  a 
state  of  death,  and  yet  repining  when  death  comes. 

Certainly. 

Then,  Simmias,  as  the  true  philosophers  are  ever  studying 
death,  to  them,  of  all  men,  death  is  the  least  terrible.  Look  at 
the  matter  in  this  way :  how  inconsistent  of  them  to  have  been 
always  enemies  of  the  body,  and  wanting  to  have  the  soul  alone, 
and  when  this  is  granted  to  them,  to  be  trembling  and  repining ; 
instead  of  rejoicing  at  their  departing  to  that  place  where, 
when  they  arrive,  they  hope  to  gain  that  which  in  life  they 
loved  (and  this  was  wisdom),  and  at  the  same  time  to  be  rid  of 
the  company  of  their  enemy.  Many  a  man  has  been  willing  to 
go  to  the  world  below  in  the  hope  of  seeing  there  an  earthly 
love,  or  wife,  or  son,  and  conversing  with  them.  And  will  he 
who  is  a  true  lover  of  wisdom,  and  is  persuaded  in  like  manner 
that  only  in  the  world  below  he  can  worthily  enjoy  her,  still  re- 
pine at  death?  Will  he  not  depart  with  joy?  Surely  he  will, 
my  friend,  if  he  be  a  true  philosopher.  For  he  will  have  a  firm 
conviction  that  there  only,  and  nowhere  else,  he  can  find  wis- 
dom in  her  purity.  And  if  this  be  true,  he  would  be  very 
absurd,  as  I  was  saying,  if  he  were  to  fear  death. 

He  would,  indeed,  replied  Simmias. 

And  when  you  see  a  man  who  is  repining  at  the  approach  of 
death,  is  not  his  reluctance  a  sufficient  proof  that  he  is  not  a 
lover  oi  wisdom,  but  a  lover  of  the  body,  and  probably  at  the 
same  time  a  lover  of  either  money  or  power,  or  both  ? 

That  is  very  true,  he  replied. 

There  is  a  virtue,  Simmias,  which  is  named  courage.  Is  not 
that  a  special  attribute  of  the  philosophy. 

Certainly. 

Again,  there  is  temperance.  Is  not  the  calm,  and  control, 
and  disdain  of  the  passions  which  even  the  many  call  temper- 
ance, a  quality  belonging  only  to  those  who  despise  the  body 
and  live  in  philosophy? 

That  is  not  to  be  denied. 

For  the  courage  and  temperance  of  other  men,  if  you  will 
consider  them,  are  really  a  contradiction. 

How  is  that,  Socrates  ? 

Well,  he  said,  you  are  aware  that  death  is  regarded  by  men 
in  general  as  a  great  evil. 


PHiEDO  89 

That  is  true,  he  said. 

And  do  not  courageous  men  endure  death  because  they  are 
afraid  of  yet  greater  evils? 

That  is  true. 

Then  all  but  the  philosophers  are  courageous  only  from 
fear,  and  because  they  are  afraid ;  and  yet  that  a  man  should 
be  courageous  from  fear,  and  because  he  is  a  coward,  is  surely  a 
strange  thing. 

Very  true. 

And  are  not  the  temperate  exactly  in  the  same  case  ?  They 
are  temperate  because  they  are  intemperate — which  may  seem 
to  be  a  contradiction,  but  is  nevertheless  the  sort  of  thing  which 
happens  with  this  foolish  temperance.  For  there  are  pleasures 
which  they  must  have,  and  are  afraid  of  losing ;  and  therefore 
they  abstain  from  one  class  of  pleasures  because  they  are  over- 
come by  another :  and  whereas  intemperance  is  defined  as  "be- 
ing under  the  dominion  of  pleasure,"  they  overcome  only  be- 
cause they  are  overcome  by  pleasure.  And  that  is  what  I  mean 
by  saying  that  they  are  temperate  through  intemperance. 

That  appears  to  be  true. 

Yet  the  exchange  of  one  fear  or  pleasure  or  pain  for  another 
fear  or  pleasure  or  pain,  which  are  measured  like  coins,  the 
greater  with  the  less,  is  not  the  exchange  of  virtue.  O  my  dear 
Simmias,  is  there  not  one  true  coin  for  which  all  things  ought 
to  exchange  ? — and  that  is  wisdom  ;  and  only  in  exchange  for 
this,  and  in  company  with  this,  is  anything  truly  bought  or  sold, 
whether  courage  or  temperance  or  justice.  And  is  not  all  true 
virtue  the  companion  of  wisdom,  no  matter  what  fears  or  pleas- 
ures or  other  similar  goods  or  evils  may  or  may  not  attend  her  ? 
But  the  virtue  which  is  made  up  of  these  goods,  when  they  are 
severed  from  wisdom  and  exchanged  with  one  another,  is  a 
shadow  of  virtue  only,  nor  is  there  any  freedom  or  health  or 
truth  in  her ;  but  in  the  true  exchange  there  is  a  purging  away 
of  all  these  things,  and  temperance,  and  justice,  and  courage, 
and  wisdom  herself  are  a  purgation  of  them.  And  I  conceive 
that  the  founders  of  the  mysteries  had  a  real  meaning  and  were 
not  mere  triflers  when  they  intimated  in  a  figure  long  ago  that 
he  who  passed  unsanctified  and  uninitiated  into  the  world  below 
will  live  in  a  slough,  but  that  he  who  arrives  there  after  initia- 
tion and  purification  will  dwell  with  the  gods.  For  "  many," 
as  they  say  in  the  mysteries,  "  are  the  thyrsus  bearers,  but  few 


90  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

are  the  mystics," — meaning,  as  I  interpret  the  words,  the  true 
philosophers.  In  the  number  of  whom  I  have  been  seeking, 
according  to  my  abiHty,  to  find  a  place  during  my  whole  life ; 
whether  I  have  sought  in  a  right  way  or  not,  and  whether  I 
have  succeeded  or  not,  I  shall  truly  know  in  a  little  while,  if 
God  will,  when  I  myself  arrive  in  the  other  world :  that  is  my 
belief.  And  now,  Simmias  and  Cebes,  I  have  answered  those 
who  charge  me  with  not  grieving  or  repining  at  parting  from 
you  and  my  masters  in  this  world ;  and  I  am  right  in  not  repin- 
ing, for  I  believe  that  I  shall  find  other  masters  and  friends  who 
are  as  good  in  the  world  below.  But  all  men  cannot  receive 
this,  and  I  shall  be  glad  if  my  words  have  any  more  success  with 
you  than  with  the  judges  of  Athenians. 

Cebes  answered:  I  agree,  Socrates,  in  the  greater  part  of 
what  you  say.  But  in  what  relates  to  the  soul,  men  are  apt  to 
be  incredulous;  they  fear  that  when  she  leaves  the  body  her 
place  may  be  nowhere,  and  that  on  the  very  day  of  death  she 
may  be  destroyed  and  perish — immediately  on  her  release  from 
the  body,  issuing  forth  like  smoke  or  air  and  vanishing  away 
into  nothingness.  For  if  she  could  only  hold  together  and  be 
herself  after  she  was  released  from  the  evils  of  the  body,  there 
would  be  good  reason  to  hope,  Socrates,  that  what  you  say  is 
true.  But  much  persuasion  and  many  arguments  are  required 
in  order  to  prove  that  when  the  man  is  dead  the  soul  yet  exists, 
and  has  any  force  of  intelligence. 

True,  Cebes,  said  Socrates ;  and  shall  I  suggest  that  we  talk 
a  little  of  the  probabilities  of  these  things  ? 

I  am  sure,  said  Cebes,  that  I  should  greatly  like  to  know 
your  opinion  about  them. 

I  reckon,  said  Socrates,  that  no  one  who  heard  me  now,  not 
even  if  he  were  one  of  my  old  enemies,  the  comic  poets,  could 
accuse  me  of  idle  talking  about  matters  in  which  I  have  no  con- 
cern.    Let  us,  then,  if  you  please,  proceed  with  the  inquiry. 

Whether  the  souls»of  men  after  death  are  or  are  not  in  the 
world  below,  is  a  question  which  may  be  argued  in  this  manner. 
The  ancient  doctrine  of  which  I  have  been  speaking  affirms 
that  they  go  from  this  into  the  other  world,  and  return  hither, 
and  are  born  from  the  dead.  Now  if  this  be  true,  and  the  living 
come  from  the  dead,  then  our  souls  must  be  in  the  other  world, 
for  if  not.  how  could  they  be  born  again  ?  And  this  would  be 
conclusive,  if  there  were  any  real  evidence  that  the  living  are 


PH^DO  91 

only  born  from  the  dead ;  but  if  there  is  no  evidence  of  this,  then 
other  arguments  will  have  to  be  adduced. 

That  is  very  true,  replied  Cebes. 

Then  let  us  consider  this  question,  not  in  relation  to  man 
only,  but  in  relation  to  animals  generally,  and  to  plants,  and  to 
everything  of  which  there  is  generation,  and  the  proof  will  be 
easier.  Are  not  all  things  which  have  opposites  generated  out 
of  their  opposites?  I  mean  such  things  as  good  and  evil,  just 
and  unjust — and  there  are  innumerable  other  opposites  which 
are  generated  out  of  opposites.  And  I  want  to  show  that  this 
holds  universally  of  all  opposites ;  I  mean  to  say,  for  example, 
that  anything  which  becomes  greater  must  become  greater 
after  being  less. 

True. 

And  that  which  becomes  less  must  have  been  once  greater 
and  then  become  less. 

Yes. 

And  the  weaker  is  generated  from  the  stronger,  and  the 
swifter  from  the  slower. 

Very  true. 

And  the  worse  is  from  the  better,  and  the  more  just  is  from 
the  more  unjust? 

Of  course. 

And  is  this  true  of  all  opposites  ?  and  are  we  convinced  that 
all  of  them  are  generated  out  of  opposites  ? 

Yes. 

And  in  this  universal  opposition  of  all  things,  are  there  not 
also  two  intermediate  processes  which  are  ever  going  on,  from 
one  to  the  other,  and  back  again ;  where  there  is  a  greater  and 
a  less  there  is  also  an  intermediate  process  of  increase  and  dim- 
inution, and  that  which  grows  is  said  to  wax,  and  that  which 
decays  to  wane? 

Yes,  he  said. 

And  there  are  many  other  processes,  such  as  division  and 
composition,  cooling  and  heating,  which  equally  involve  a  pas- 
sage into  and  out  of  one  another.  And  this  holds  of  all  oppo- 
sites, even  though  not  always  expressed  in  words — they  are 
generated  out  of  one  another,  and  there  is  a  passing  or  process 
from  one  to  the  other  of  them  ? 

Very  true,  he  replied. 

Well,  and  is  there  not  an  opposite  of  life,  as  sleep  is  the  oppo- 
site of  waking? 


92  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

True,  he  said. 

And  what  is  that? 

Death,  he  answered. 

And  these,  then,  are  generated,  if  they  are  opposites,  the  one 
from  the  other,  and  have  there  their  two  intermediate  processes 
also  ? 

Of  course. 

Now,  said  Socrates,  I  will  analyze  one  of  the  two  pairs  of 
opposites  which  I  have  mentioned  to  you,  and  also  its  inter- 
mediate processes,  and  you  shall  analyze  the  other  to  me.  The 
state  of  sleep  is  opposed  to  the  state  of  waking,  and  out  of  sleep- 
ing waking  is  generated,  and  out  of  waking,  sleeping ;  and  the 
process  of  generation  is  in  the  one  case  falling  asleep,  and  in  the 
other  waking  up.     Are  you  agreed  about  that  ? 

Quite  agreed. 

Then,  suppose  that  you  analyze  life  and  death  to  me  in  the 
same  manner.     Is  not  death  opposed  to  life  ? 

Yes. 

And  they  are  generated  one  from  the  other? 

Yes. 

What  is  generated  from  life? 

Death. 

And  what  from  death  ? 

I  can  only  say  in  answer — life. 

Then  the  living,  whether  things  or  persons,  Cebes,  are  gen- 
erated from  the  dead? 

That  is  clear,  he  replied. 

Then  the  inference  is,  that  our  souls  are  in  the  world  below  ? 

That  is  true. 

And  one  of  the  two  processes  or  generations  is  visible — for 
surely  the  act  of  dying  is  visible? 

Surely,  he  said. 

And  may  not  the  other  be  inferred  as  the  complement  of 
nature,  who  is  not  to  be  supposed  to  go  on  one  leg  only  ?  And 
if  not,  a  corresponding  process  of  generation  in  death  must 
also  be  assigned  to  her? 

Certainly,  he  replied. 

And  what  is  that  process? 

Revival. 

And  revival,  if  there  be  such  a  thing,  is  the  birth  of  the  dead 
into  the  world  of  the  living  ? 


PH^DO 


93 


Quite  true. 

Then  here  is  a  new  way  in  which  we  arrive  at  the  inference 
that  the  Hving  come  from  the  dead,  just  as  the  dead  come  from 
the  living ;  and  if  this  is  true,  then  the  souls  of  the  dead  must 
be  in  some  place  out  of  which  they  come  again.  And  this,  as  I 
think,  has  been  satisfactorily  proved. 

Yes,  Socrates,  he  said ;  all  this  seems  to  flow  necessarily  out 
of  our  previous  admissions. 

And  that  these  admissions  were  not  unfair,  Cebes,  he  said, 
may  be  shown,  as  I  think,  in  this  way :  If  generation  were  in 
a  straight  line  only,  and  there  were  no  compensation  or  circle 
in  nature,  no  turn  or  return  into  one  another,  then  you  know 
that  all  things  would  at  last  have  the  same  form  and  pass  into 
the  same  state,  and  there  would  be  no  more  generation  of  them. 

What  do  you  mean?  he  said. 

A  simple  thing  enough,  which  I  will  illustrate  by  the  case 
of  sleep,  he  replied.  You  know  that  if  there  were  no  compen- 
sation of  sleeping  and  waking,  the  story  of  the  sleeping  En- 
dymion  would  in  the  end  have  no  meaning,  because  all  other 
things  would  be  asleep,  too,  and  he  would  not  be  thought  of. 
Or  if  there  were  composition  only,  and  no  division  of  sub- 
stances, then  the  chaos  of  Anaxagoras  would  come  again. 
And  in  like  manner,  my  dear  Cebes,  if  all  things  which  partook 
of  life  were  to  die,  and  after  they  were  dead  remained  in  the 
form  of  death,  and  did  not  come  to  life  again,  all  would  at  last 
die,  and  nothing  would  be  alive — how  could  this  be  otherwise  ? 
For  if  the  living  spring  from  any  others  who  are  not  the  dead, 
and  they  die,  must  not  all  things  at  last  be  swallowed  up  in 
death  ? 

There  is  no  escape  from  that,  Socrates,  said  Cebes;  and  I 
think  that  what  you  say  is  entirely  true. 

Yes,  he  said,  Cebes,  I  entirely  think  so,  too ;  and  we  are  not 
walking  in  a  vain  imagination ;  but  I  am  confident  in  the  belief 
that  there  truly  is  such  a  thing  as  living  again,  and  that  the 
Hving  spring  from  the  dead,  and  that  the  souls  of  the  dead  are 
in  existence,  and  that  the  good  souls  have  a  better  portion  than 
the  evil. 

Cebes  added :  Your  favorite  doctrine,  Socrates,  that  knowl- 
edge is  simply  recollection,  if  true,  also  necessarily  implies  a 
previous  time  in  which  we  learned-  that  which  we  now  recollect. 
But  this  would  be  impossible  unless  our  soul  was  in  some  place 


94  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

before  existing  in  the  human  form ;  here,  then,  is  another  argu- 
ment of  the  soul's  immortaUty. 

But  tell  me,  Cebes,  said  Simmias,  interposing,  what  proofs 
are  given  of  this  doctrine  of  recollection  ?  I  am  not  very  sure 
at  this  moment  that  I  remember  them. 

One  excellent  proof,  said  Cebes,  is  afforded  by  questions. 
If  you  put  a  question  to  a  person  in  a  right  way,  he  will  give  a 
true  answer  of  himself ;  but  how  could  he  do  this  unless  there 
were  knowledge  and  right  reason  already  in  him?  And  this 
is  most  clearly  shown  when  he  is  taken  to  a  diagram  or  to  any- 
thing of  that  sort. 

But  if,  said  Socrates,  you  are  still  incredulous,  Simmias,  I 
would  ask  you  whether  you  may  not  agree  with  me  when  you 
look  at  the  matter  in  another  way ;  I  mean,  if  you  are  still  in- 
credulous as  to  whether  knowledge  is  recollection? 

Incredulous,  I  am  not,  said  Simmias ;  but  I  want  to  have  this 
doctrine  of  recollection  brought  to  my  own  recollection,  and, 
from  what  Cebes  has  said,  I  am  beginning  to  recollect  and  be 
convinced ;  but  I  should  still  like  to  hear  what  more  you  have 
to  say. 

This  is  what  I  would  say,  he  replied :  We  should  agree,  if 
I  am  not  mistaken,  that  what  a  man  recollects  he  must  have 
known  at  some  previous  time. 

Very  true. 

And  what  is  the  nature  of  this  recollection  ?  And,  in  asking 
this,  I  mean  to  ask  whether,  when  a  person  has  already  seen  or 
heard  or  in  any  way  perceived  anything,  and  he  knows  not  only 
that,  but  something  else  of  which  he  has  not  the  same,  but 
another  knowledge,  we  may  not  fairly  say  that  he  recollects 
that  which  comes  into  his  mind.     Are  we  agreed  about  that? 

What  do  you  mean  ? 

I  mean  what  I  may  illustrate  by  the  following  instance :  The 
knowledge  of  a  lyre  is  not  the  same  as  the  knowledge  of  a  man  ? 

True. 

And  yet  what  is  the  feeling  of  lovers  when  they  recognize 
a  lyre,  or  a  garment,  or  anything  else  which  the  beloved  has 
been  in  the  habit  of  using?  Do  not  they,  from  knowing  the 
lyre,  form  in  the  mind's  eye  an  image  of  the  youth  to  whom  the 
lyre  belongs  ?  And  this  is  recollection :  and  in  the  same  way 
any  one  who  sees  Simmias  may  remember  Cebes ;  and  there  are 
endless  other  things  of  the  same  nature. 


PH^DO 


95 


Yes,  indeed,  there  are — endless,  replied  Simmias. 

And  this  sort  of  thing,  he  said,  is  recollection,  and  is  most 
commonly  a  process  of  recovering  that  which  has  been  forgot- 
ten through  time  and  inattention. 

Very  true,  he  said. 

Well;  and  may  you  not  also  from  seeing  tlie  picture  of  a 
horse  or  a  lyre  remember  a  man  ?  and  from  the  picture  of  Sim- 
mias, you  may  be  led  to  remember  Cebes? 

True. 

Or  you  may  also  be  led  to  the  recollection  of  Simmias  him- 
self? 

True,  he  said. 

And  in  all  these  cases,  the  recollection  may  be  derived  from 
things  either  like  or  unlike  ? 

That  is  true. 

And  w^hen  the  recollection  is  derived  from  like  things,  then 
there  is  sure  to  be  another  question,  which  is.  Whether  the 
likeness  of  that  which  is  recollected  is  in  any  way  defective  or 
not  ? 

Very  true,  he  said. 

And  shall  we  proceed  a  step  further,  and  affirm  that  there 
is  such  a  thing  as  equality,  not  of  wood  with  wood,  or  of  stone 
with  stone,  but  that,  over  and  above  this,  there  is  equality  in 
the  abstract  ?     Shall  we  affirm  this  ? 

Affirm,  yes,  and  swear  to  it,  replied  Simmias,  with  all  the 
confidence  in  life. 

And  do  we  know  the  nature  of  this  abstract  essence? 

To  be  sure,  he  said. 

And  whence  did  we  obtain  this  knowledge?  Did  we  not 
see  equalities  of  material  things,  such  as  pieces  of  wood  and 
stones,  and  gather  from  them  the  idea  of  an  equality  which  is 
different  from  them? — you  will  admit  that?  Or  look  at  the 
matter  again  in  this  way :  Do  not  the  same  pieces  of  wood  or 
stone  appear  at  one  time  equal,  and  at  another  time  unequal? 

That  is  certain. 

But  are  real  equals  ever  unequal?  or  is  the  idea  of  equality 
ever  inequality  ? 

That  surely  was  never  yet  known,  Socrates. 

Then  these  (so-called)  equals  are  not  the  same  with  the  idea 
of  equality  ? 

I  should  say,  clearly  not,  Socrates. 


96  DIALOGUES   OF   PLATO 

And  yet  from  these  equals,  although  differing  from  the  idea 
of  equality,  you  conceived  and  attained  that  idea  ? 

Very  true,  he  said. 

Which  might  be  like,  or  might  be  unlike  them  ? 

Yes. 

But  that  makes  no  difference;  whenever  from  seeing  one 
thing  you  conceived  another,  whether  like  or  unlike,  there 
must  surely  have  been  an  act  of  recollection  ? 

Very  true. 

But  what  would  you  say  of  equal  portions  of  wood  and  stone, 
or  other  material  equals  ?  and  what  is  the  impression  produced 
by  them  ?  Are  they  equals  in  the  same  sense  as  absolute  equal- 
ity ?  or  do  they  fall  short  of  this  in  a  measure  ? 

Yes,  he  said,  in  a  very  great  measure,  too. 

And  must  we  not  allow  that  when  I  or  any  one  look  at  any 
object,  and  perceive  that  the  object  aims  at  being  some  other 
thing,  but  falls  short  of,  and  cannot  attain  to  it — he  who  makes 
this  observation  must  have  had  a  previous  knowledge  of  that  to 
which,  as  he  says,  the  other,  although  similar,  was  inferior? 

Certainly. 

And  has  not  this  been  our  case  in  the  matter  of  equals  and  of 
absolute  equality? 

Precisely. 

Then  we  must  have  known  absolute  equality  previously  to 
the  time  when  we  first  saw  the  material  equals,  and  reflected 
that  all  these  apparent  equals  aim  at  this  absolute  equality,  but 
fall  short  of  it? 

That  is  true. 

And  we  recognize  also  that  this  absolute  equality  has  only 
been  known,  and  can  only  be  known,  through  the  medium  of 
sight  or  touch,  or  of  some  other  sense.  And  this  I  would 
affirm  of  all  such  conceptions. 

Yes,  Socrates,  as  far  as  the  argument  is  concerned,  one  of 
them  is  the  same  as  the  other. 

And  from  the  senses,  then,  is  derived  the  knowledge  that 
all  sensible  things  aim  at  an  idea  of  equality  of  which  they  fall 
short — is  not  that  true? 

Yes. 

Then  before  we  began  to  see  or  hear  or  perceive  in  any  way, 
we  must  have  had  a  knowledge  of  absolute  equality,  or  we  could 
not  have  referred  to  that  the  equals  which  are  derived  from  the 


PH^DO 


97 


senses? — for  to  that  they  all  aspire,  and  of  that  they  fall 
short? 

That,  Socrates,  is  certainly  to  be  inferred  from  the  previous 
statements. 

And  did  we  not  see  and  hear  and  acquire  our  other  senses  as 
soon  as  we  were  born  ? 

Certainly. 

Then  we  must  have  acquired  the  knowledge  of  the  ideal 
equal  at  some  time  previous  to  this  ? 

Yes. 

That  is  to  say,  before  we  were  born,  I  suppose  ? 

True. 

And  if  we  acquired  this  knowledge  before  we  were  born,  and 
were  born  having  it,  then  we  also  knew  before  we  were  born 
and  at  the  instan*  of  birth  not  only  the  equal  or  the  greater  or 
the  less,  but  all  ocher  ideas ;  for  we  are  not  speaking  only  of 
equality  absolute,  but  of  beauty,  good,  justice,  holiness,  and  all 
which  we  stamp  with  the  name  of  essence  in  the  dialectical 
process,  when  we  ask  and  answer  questions.  Of  all  this  we 
may  certainly  affirm  that  we  acquired  the  knowledge  before 
birth? 

That  is  true. 

But  if,  after  having  acquired,  we  have  not  forgotten  that 
which  we  acquired,  then  we  must  always  have  been  born  with 
knowledge,  and  shall  always  continue  to  know  as  long  as  life 
lasts — for  knowing  is  the  acquiring  and  retaining  knowledge 
and  not  forgetting.  Is  not  forgetting,  Simmias,  just  the  losing 
of  knowledge? 

Quite  true,  Socrates. 

But  if  the  knowledge  which  we  acquired  before  birth  was 
lost  by  us  at  birth,  and  if  afterwards  by  the  use  of  the  senses  we 
recovered  that  which  we  previously  knew,  will  not  that  which 
we  call  learning  be  a  process  of  recovering  our  knowledge,  and 
may  not  this  be  rightly  termed  recollection  by  us  ? 

Very  true. 

For  this  is  clear,  that  when  we  perceived  something,  either 
by  the  help  of  sight,  or  hearing,  or  some  other  sense,  there  was 
no  difficulty  in  receiving  from  this  a  conception  of  some  other 
thing  like  or  unlike  which  had  been  forgotten  and  which  was 
associated  with  this  ;  and  therefcjre,  as  I  was  saving,  one  of  two 
alternatives  follow :  either  we  had  this  knowledge  at  birth,  and 

r 


98  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

continued  to  know  through  life ;  or,  after  birth,  those  who  are 
said  to  learn  only  remember,  and  learning  is  recollection  only. 

Yes,  that  is  quite  true,  Socrates. 

And  which  alternative,  Simmias,  do  you  prefer?  Had  we 
the  knowledge  at  our  birth,  or  did  we  remember  afterwards  the 
things  which  we  knew  previously  to  our  birth  ? 

I  cannot  decide  at  the  moment. 

At  any  rate  you  can  decide  whether  he  who  has  knowledge 
ought  or  ought  not  to  be  able  to  give  a  reason  for  what  he 
knows. 

Certainly,  he  ought. 

But  do  you  think  that  every  man  is  able  to  give  a  reason  about 
these  very  matters  of  which  we  are  speaking  ? 

I  wish  that  they  could,  Socrates,  but  I  greatly  fear  that  to- 
morrow at  this  time  there  will  be  no  one  able  to  give  a  reason 
worth  having. 

Then  you  are  not  of  opinion,  Simmias,  that  all  men  know 
these  things? 

Certainly  not. 

Then  they  are  in  process  of  recollecting  that  which  they 
learned  before. 

Certainly. 

But  when  did  our  souls  acquire  this  knowledge  ? — not  since 
we  were  born  as  men  ? 

Certainly  not. 

And  therefore,  previously? 

Yes. 

Then,  Simmias,  our  souls  must  have  existed  before  they  were 
in  the  form  of  man — without  bodies,  and  must  have  had  intelli- 
gence ? 

Unless  indeed  you  suppose,  Socrates,  that  these  notions  were 
given  us  at  the  moment  of  birth ;  for  this  is  the  only  time  that 
remains. 

Yes,  my  friend,  but  when  we  did  lose  them  ?  for  they  are  not 
in  us  when  we  are  bom — that  is  admitted.  Did  we  lose  them 
at  the  moment  of  receiving  them,  or  at  some  other  time  ? 

No,  Socrates,  I  perceive  that  I  was  unconsciously  talking 
nonsense. 

Then  may  we  not  say,  Simmias,  that  if,  as  we  are  always 
repeating,  there  is  an  absolute  beauty,  and  goodness,  and  es- 
sence in  general,  and  to  this,  which  is  now  discovered  to  be  a 


PH^DO  99 

previous  condition  of  our  being,  we  refer  all  our  sensations,  and 
with  this  compare  them — assuming  this  to  have  a  prior  exist- 
ence, then  our  souls  must  have  had  a  prior  existence,  but  if  not, 
there  would  be  no  force  in  the  argument.  There  can  be  no 
doubt  that  if  these  absolute  ideas  existed  before  we  were  born, 
then  our  souls  must  have  existed  before  we  were  born,  and  ii 
not  the  ideas,  then  not  the  souls. 

Yes,  Socrates;  I  am  convinced  that  there  is  precisely  the 
same  necessity  for  the  existence  of  the  soul  before  birth,  and  of 
the  essence  of  which  you  are  speaking:  and  the  argument  ar- 
rives at  a  result  which  happily  agrees  with  my  own  notion.  For 
there  is  nothing  which  to  my  mind  is  so  evident  as  that  beauty, 
good,  and  other  notions  of  which  you  were  just  now  speaking 
have  a  most  real  and  absolute  existence;  and  I  am  satisfied 
with  the  proof. 

Well,  but  is  Cebes  equally  satisfied?  for  I  must  convince 
him  too. 

I  think,  said  Simmias,  that  Cebes  is  satisfied :  although  he  is 
the  most  incredulous  of  mortals,  yet  I  believe  that  he  is  con- 
vinced of  the  existence  of  the  soul  before  birth.  But  that  after 
death  the  soul  will  continue  to  exist  is  not  yet  proven  even  to 
my  own  satisfaction.  I  cannot  get  rid  of  the  feeling  of  the 
many  to  which  Cebes  was  referring — the  feeling  that  when  the 
man  dies  the  soul  may  be  scattered,  and  that  this  may  be  the 
end  of  her.  For  admitting  that  she  may  be  generated  and 
created  in  some  other  place,  and  may  have  existed  before  en- 
tering the  human  body,  why  after  having  entered  in  and  gone 
out  again  may  she  not  herself  be  destroyed  and  come  to  an  end  ? 

Very  true,  Simmias,  said  Cebes  ;  that  our  soul  existed  before 
we  were  born  was  the  first  half  of  the  argument,  and  this  ap- 
pears to  have  been  proven ;  that  the  soul  will  exist  after  death  as 
well  as  before  birth  is  the  other  half  of  which  the  proof  is  still 
wanting,  and  has  to  be  supplied. 

But  that  proof,  Simmias  and  Cebes,  has  been  already  given, 
said  Socrates,  if  you  put  the  two  arguments  together — I  mean 
this  and  the  former  one,  in  which  we  admitted  that  everything 
living  is  born  of  the  dead.  For  if  the  soul  existed  before 
birth,  and  in  coming  to  life  and  being  born  can  be  born  only 
from  death  and  dying,  must  she  not  after  death  continue  to 
exist,  since  she  has  to  be  born  again  ?  surely  the  proof  which 
your  desire  has  been  already  furnished.     Still  I  suspect  that  you 


loo  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

and  Simmias  would  be  glad  to  probe  the  argument  further ; 
like  children,  you  are  haunted  with  a  fear  that  when  the  soul 
leaves  the  body,  the  wind  may  really  blow  her  away  and  scatter 
her ;  especially  if  a  man  should  happen  to  die  in  stormy  weather 
and  not  when  the  sky  is  calm. 

Cebes  answered  with  a  smile :  Then,  Socrates,  you  must  argue 
us  out  of  our  fears — and  yet,  strictly  speaking,  they  are  not  our 
fears,  but  there  is  a  child  within  us  to  whom  death  is  a  sort  of 
hobgoblin ;  him  too  we  must  persuade  not  to  be  afraid  when 
he  is  alone  with  him  in  the  dark. 

Socrates  said :  Let  the  voice  of  the  charmer  be  applied  daily 
until  you  have  charmed  him  away. 

And  where  shall  we  find  a  good  charmer  of  our  fears,  Socra- 
tes, when  you  are  gone  ? 

Hellas,  he  replied,  is  a  large  place,  Cebes,  and  has  many 
good  men,  and  there  are  barbarous  races  not  a  few:  seek  for 
him  among  them  all,  far  and  wide,  sparing  neither  pains  nor 
money ;  for  there  is  no  better  way  of  using  your  money.  And 
you  must  not  forget  to  seek  for  him  among  yourselves  too ;  for 
he  is  nowhere  more  likely  to  be  found. 

The  search,  replied  Cebes,  shall  certainly  be  made.  And 
now,  if  you  please,  let  us  return  to  the  point  of  the  argument  at 
which  we  digressed. 

By  all  means,  replied  Socrates ;  what  else  should  I  please  ? 

Very  good,  he  said. 

Must  we  not,  said  Socrates,  ask  ourselves  some  question  of 
this  sort? — What  is  that  which,  as  we  imagine,  is  liable  to  be 
scattered  away,  and  about  which  we  fear?  and  what  again  is 
that  about  which  we  have  no  fear  ?  And  then  we  may  proceed 
to  inquire  whether  that  which  suflfers  dispersion  is  or  is  not  of 
the  nature  of  soul — our  hopes  and  fears  as  to  our  own  souls  will 
turn  upon  that. 

That  is  true,  he  said. 

Now  the  compound  or  composite  may  be  supposed  to  be 
naturally  capable  of  being  dissolved  in  like  manner  as  of  being 
compounded ;  but  that  which  is  uncompounded,  and  that  only, 
must  be,  if  anything  is,  indissoluble. 

Yes  ;  that  is  what  I  should  iitiagine,  said  Cebes. 

And  the  uncompounded  may  be  assumed  to  be  the  same  and 
unchanging,  whereas  the  compound  is  always  changing  and 
never  the  same  ? 


PH>EDO  loi 

That  I  also  think,  he  said. 

Then  now  let  us  return  to  the  previous  discussion.  Is  that 
idea  or  essence,  which  in  the  dialectical  process  we  define  as 
essence  of  true  existence — whether  essence  of  equality,  beauty, 
or  anything  else :  are  these  essences,  I  say,  liable  at  times  to 
some  degree  of  change  ?  or  are  they  each  of  them  always  what 
they  are,  having  the  same  simple  self-existent  and  unchanging 
forms,  and  not  admitting  of  variation  at  all,  or  in  any  way,  or  at 
any  time  ? 

They  must  be  always  the  same,  Socrates,  replied  Cebes. 

And  what  would  you  say  of  the  many  beautiful — whether 
men  or  horses  or  garments  or  any  other  things  which  may  be 
called  equal  or  beautiful — are  they  all  unchanging  and  the 
same  always,  or  quite  the  reverse?  May  they  not  rather  be 
described  as  almost  always  changing  and  hardly  ever  the  same, 
either  with  themselves  or  with  one  another? 

The  latter,  replied  Cebes  ;  they  are  always  in  a  state  of  change. 

And  these  you  can  touch  and  see  and  perceive  with  the 
senses,  but  the  unchanging  things  you  can  only  perceive  with 
the  mind — they  are  invisible  and  are  not  seen  ? 

That  is  very  true,  he  said. 

Well,  then,  he  added,  let  us  suppose  that  there  are  two  sorts 
of  existences,  one  seen,  the  other  unseen. 

Let  us  suppose  them. 

The  seen  is  the  changing,  and  the  unseen  is  the  unchanging. 

That  may  be  also  supposed. 

And,  further,  is  not  one  part  of  us  body,  and  the  rest  of  us 
soul? 

To  be  sure. 

And  to  which  class  may  we  say  that  the  body  is  more  alike 
and  akin  ? 

Clearly  to  the  seen :  no  one  can  doubt  that. 

And  is  the  soul  seen  or  not  seen  ? 

Not  by  man,  Socrates. 

And  by  "  seen  "  and  "  not  seen  "  is  meant  by  us  that  which 
is  or  is  not  visible  to  the  eye  of  man  ? 

Yes,  to  the  eye  of  man. 

And  what  do  we  say  of  the  soul  ?  is  that  seen  or  not  seen  ? 

Not  seen. 

Unseen  then? 

Yes. 


I02  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

Then  the  soul  is  more  like  to  the  unseen,  and  the  body  to  the 
seen? 

That  is  most  certain,  Socrates. 

And  were  we  not  saying  long  ago  that  the  soul  when  using 
the  body  as  an  instrument  of  perception,  that  is  to  say,  when 
using  the  sense  of  sight  or  hearing  or  some  other  sense  (for  the 
meaning  of  perceiving  through  the  body  is  perceiving  through 
the  senses) — were  we  not  saying  that  the  soul  too  is  then 
dragged  by  the  body  into  the  region  of  the  changeable,  and 
wanders  and  is  confused;  the  world  spins  round  her,  and  she 
is  like  a  drunkard  when  under  their  influence  ? 

Very  true. 

But  when  returning  into  herself  she  reflects ;  then  she  passes 
into  the  realm  of  purity,  and  eternity,  and  immortality,  and 
unchangeableness,  which  are  her  kindred,  and  with  them  she 
ever  lives,  when  she  is  by  herself  and  is  not  let  or  hindered ; 
then  she  ceases  from  her  erring  ways,  and  being  in  communion 
with  the  unchanging  is  unchanging.  And  this  state  of  the 
soul  is  called  wisdom  ? 

That  is  well  and  truly  said,  Socrates,  he  replied. 

And  to  which  class  is  the  soul  more  nearly  alike  and  akin,  as 
far  as  may  be  inferred  from  this  argument,  as  well  as  from  the 
preceding  one? 

I  think,  Socrates,  that,  in  the  opinion  of  every  one  who  fol' 
lows  the  argument,  the  soul  will  be  infinitely  more  like  the  un- 
changeable— even  the  most  stupid  person  will  not  deny  that. 

And  the  body  is  more  like  the  changing? 

Yes. 

Yet  once  more  consider  the  matter  in  this  light :  When  the 
soul  and  the  body  are  united,  then  nature  orders  the  soul  to 
rule  and  govern,  and  the  body  to  obey  and  serve. 

Now  which  of  these  two  functions  is  akin  to  the  divine?  and 
which  to  the  mortal?  Does  not  the  divine  appear  to  you  to 
be  that  which  naturally  orders  and  rules,  and  the  mortal  that 
which  is  subject  and  servant? 

True. 

And  which  does  the  soul  resemble? 

The  soul  resembles  the  iivine,  and  the  body  the  mortal — 
there  can  be  no  doubt  of  that.  Socrates. 

Then  reflect.  Cebes :  is  not  ^he  conclusion  of  the  whole  mat- 
ter this — that  the  soul  is  in  the  very  likeness  of  the  divine,  and 


PH^DO 


103 


immortal,  and  intelligible,  and  uniform,  and  indissoluble,  and 
unchangeable;  and  the  body  is  in  the  very  Hkeness  of  the 
human,  and  mortal,  and  unintelligible,  and  multiform,  and  dis- 
soluble, and  changeable.     Can  this,  my  dear  Cebes,  be  denied  ? 

No,  indeed. 

But  if  this  is  true,  then  is  not  the  body  liable  to  speedy  dis- 
solution ?  and  is  not  the  soul  almost  or  altogether  indissoluble  ? 

Certainly. 

And  do  you  further  observe,  that  after  a  man  is  dead,  the 
body,  which  is  the  visible  part  of  man,  and  has  a  visible  frame- 
work, which  is  called  a  corpse,  and  which  would  naturally  be 
dissolved  and  decomposed  and  dissipated,  is  not  dissolved  or 
decomposed  at  once,  but  may  remain, for  a  good  while,  if  the 
constitution  be  sound  at  the  time  of  death,  and  the  season  of  the 
year  favorable?  For  the  body  when  shrunk  and  embalmed, 
as  is  the  custom  in  Egypt,  may  remain  almost  entire  through 
infinite  ages ;  and  even  in  decay,  still  there  are  some  portions, 
such  as  the  bones  and  ligaments,  which  are  practically  inde- 
structible.    You  allow  that  ? 

Yes. 

And  are  we  to  suppose  that  the  soul,  which  is  invisible,  in 
passing  to  the  true  Hades,  which  like  her  is  invisible,  and  pure, 
and  noble,  and  on  her  way  to  the  good  and  wise  God,  whither, 
if  God  will,  my  soul  is  also  soon  to  go — that  the  soul,  I  repeat, 
if  this  be  her  nature  and  origin,  is  blown  away  and  perishes 
immediately  on  quitting  the  body,  as  the  many  say  ?  That  can 
never  be,  my  dear  Simmias  and  Cebes.  The  truth  rather  is 
that  the  soul  which  is  pure  at  departing  draws  after  her  no 
bodily  taint,  having  never  voluntarily  had  connection  with  the 
body,  which  she  is  ever  avoiding,  herself  gathered  into  herself 
(for  such  abstraction  has  been  the  study  of  her  life).  And  what 
does  this  mean  but  that  she  has  been  a  true  disciple  of  philoso- 
phy, and  has  practised  how  to  die  easily  ?  And  is  not  philoso- 
phy the  practice  of  death  ? 

Certainly. 

That  soul,  I  say,  herself  invisible,  departs  to  the  invisible 
world — to  the  divine  and  immortal  and  rational :  thither  arriv- 
ing, she  lives  in  bliss  and  is  released  from  the  error  and  folly  of 
men,  their  fears  and  wild  passions  and  all  other  human  ills,  and 
forever  dwells,  as  they  say  of  the  initiated,  in  company  with  the 
gods.     Is  not  this  true,  Cebes '' 


104  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

Yes,  said  Cebes,  beyond  a  doubt. 

But  the  soul  which  has  been  polluted,  and  is  impure  at  the 
time  of  her  departure,  and  is  the  companion  and  servant  of  the 
body  always,  and  is  in  love  with  and  fascinated  by  the  body  and 
by  the  desires  and  pleasures  of  the  body,  until  she  is  led  to 
believe  that  the  truth  only  exists  in  a  bodily  form,  which  a  man 
may  touch  and  see  and  taste  and  use  for  the  purposes  of  his 
lusts — the  soul,  I  mean,  accustomed  to  hate  and  fear  and  avoid 
the  intellectual  principle,  which  to  the  bodily  eye  is  dark  and 
invisible,  and  can  be  attained  only  by  philosophy — do  you  sup- 
pose that  such  a  soul  as  this  will  depart  pure  and  unalloyed  ? 

That  is  impossible,  he  replied. 

She  is  engrossed  by  the  corporeal,  which  the  continual  asso- 
ciation and  constant  care  of  the  body  have  made  natural  to  her. 

Very  true. 

And  this,  my  friend,  may  be  conceived  to  be  that  heavy, 
weighty,  earthy  element  of  sight  by  which  such  a  soul  is  de- 
pressed and  dragged  down  again  into  the  visible  world,  because 
she  is  afraid  of  the  invisible  and  of  the  world  below — prowling 
about  tombs  and  sepulchres,  in  the  neighborhood  of  which,  as 
they  tell  us,  are  seen  certain  ghostly  apparitions  of  souls  which 
have  not  departed  pure,  but  are  cloyed  with  sight  and  therefore 
visible.* 

That  is  very  likely,  Socrates. 

Yes,  that  is  very  likely,  Cebes ;  and  these  must  be  the  souls, 
not  of  the  good,  but  of  the  evil,  who  are  compelled  to  wander 
about  such  places  in  payment  of  the  penalty  of  their  former  evil 
way  of  life ;  and  they  continue  to  wander  until  the  desire  which 
haunts  them  is  satisfied  and  they  are  imprisoned  in  another 
body.  And  they  may  be  supposed  to  be  fixed  in  the  same 
natures  which  they  had  in  their  former  life. 

*  Compare  Milton,  "  Comus,"  463  foil. : — 

"  But  when  lust. 
By  unchaste  looks,  loose  gestures,  and  foul  talk. 
But  most  by  lewd  and  lavish  act  of  sin, 
Lets  in  defilement  to  the  inward  parts, 
The  soul  grows  clotted  by  contagion. 
Embodies,  and  imbrutes.  till  she  quite  lose 
The  divine  property  of  her  first  Deing. 
Such  are  those  thick  and  gloomy  shadows  damp 
Oft  seen  in  charnel  vaults  and  sepulchres. 
Lingering,  and  sitting  by  a  new-made  grave. 
As  loath  to  leave  the  body  that  it  loved, 
And  linked  itself  by  carnal  sensuality 
To  a  degenerate  and  degraded  state." 


PH^DO  105 

What  natures  do  you  mean,  Socrates  ? 

I  mean  to  say  that  men  who  have  followed  after  gluttony, 
and  wantonness,  and  drunkenness,  and  have  had  no  thought  of 
avoiding  them,  would  pass  into  asses  and  animals  of  that  sort. 
What  do  you  think  ? 

I  think  that  exceedingly  probable. 

And  those  who  have  chosen  the  portion"  of  injustice,  and 
tyranny,  and  violence,  will  pass  into  wolves,  or  hawks,  and 
kites ;  whither  else  can  we  suppose  them  to  go  ? 

Yes,  said  Cebes ;  that  is  doubtless  the  place  of  natures  such 
as  theirs. 

And  there  is  no  difficulty,  he  said,  in  assigning  to  all  of  them 
places  answering  to  their  several  natures  and  propensities  ? 

There  is  not,  he  said. 

Even  among  them  some  are  happier  than  others ;  and  the 
happiest  both  in  themselves  and  their  place  of  abode  are  those 
who  have  practised  the  civil  and  social  virtues  which  are  called 
temperance  and  justice,  and  are  acquired  by  habit  and  attention 
without  philosophy  and  mind. 

Why  are  they  the  happiest  ? 

Because  they  may  be  expected  to  pass  into  some  gentle, 
social  nature  which  is  like  their  own,  such  as  that  of  bees  or 
ants,  or  even  back  again  into  the  form  of  man,  and  just  and 
moderate  men  spring  from  them. 

That  is  not  impossible. 

But  he  who  is  a  philosopher  or  lover  of  learning,  and  is  en- 
tirely pure  at  departing,  is  alone  permitted  to  reach  the  gods. 
And  this  is  the  reason,  Simmias  and  Cebes,  why  the  true  vota- 
ries of  philosophy  abstain  from  all  fleshly  lusts,  and  endure  and 
refuse  to  give  themselves  up  to  them — not  because  they  fear 
poverty  or  the  ruin  of  their  families,  like  the  lovers  of  money, 
and  the  world  in  general ;  nor  like  the  lovers  of  power  and  honor, 
because  they  dread  the  dishonor  or  disgrace  of  evil  deeds. 

No,  Socrates,  that  would  not  become  them,  said  Cebes. 

No,  indeed,  he  replied ;  and  therefore  they  who  have  a  care 
of  their  souls,  and  do  not  merely  live  in  the  fashions  of  the  body, 
say  farewell  to  all  this ;  they  will  not  walk  in  the  ways  of  the 
blind:  and  when  Philosophy  offers  them  purification  and  re- 
lease from  evil,  they  feel  that  they  ought  not  to  resist  her  influ- 
ence, and  to  her  they  incline,  and  whither  she  leads  they  follow 
her. 


lo6  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

What  do  you  mean,  Socrates  ? 

I  will  tell  you,  he  said.  The  lovers  of  knowledge  are  con- 
scious that  their  souls,  when  philosophy  receives  them,  are 
simply  fastened  and  glued  to  their  bodies :  the  soul  is  only  able 
to  view  existence  through  the  bars  of  a  prison,  and  not  in  her 
own  nature ;  she  is  wallowing  in  the  mire  of  all  ignorance ;  and 
philosophy,  seeing  the  terrible  nature  of  her  confinement,  and 
that  the  captive  through  desire  is  led  to  conspire  in  her  own 
captivity  (for  the  lovers  of  knowledge  are  aware  that  this  was 
the  original  state  of  the  soul,  and  that  when  she  was  in  this 
state  philosophy  received  and  gently  counseled  her,  and  wanted 
to  release  her,  pointing  out  to  her  that  the  eye  is  full  of  deceit, 
and  also  the  ear  and  the  other  senses,  and  persuading  her  to 
retire  from  them  in  all  but  the  necessary  use  of  them  and  to  be 
gathered  up  and  collected  into  herself,  and  to  trust  only  to  her- 
self and  her  own  intuitions  of  absolute  existence,  and  mistrust 
that  which  comes  to  her  through  others  and  is  subject  to  vicis- 
situde)— philosophy  shows  her  that  this  is  visible  and  tangible, 
but  that  what  she  sees  in  her  own  nature  is  intellectual  and 
invisible.  And  the  soul  of  the  true  philosopher  thinks  that  she 
ought  not  to  resist  this  deliverance,  and  therefore  abstains  from 
pleasures  and  desires  and  pains  and  fears,  as  far  as  she  is  able ; 
reflecting  that  when  a  man  has  great  joys  or  sorrows  or  fears 
or  desires  he  suffers  from  them,  not  the  sort  of  evil  which  might 
be  anticipated — as,  for  example,  the  loss  of  his  health  or  prop- 
erty, which  he  has  sacrificed  to  his  lusts — but  he  has  suffered 
an  evil  greater  far,  which  is  the  greatest  and  worst  of  all  evils, 
and  one  of  which  he  never  thinks. 

And  what  is  that,  Socrates  ?  said  Cebes. 

Why  this :  When  the  feeling  of  pleasure  or  pain  in  the  soul 
is  most  intense,  all  of  us  naturally  suppose  that  the  object  of 
this  intense  feeling  is  then  plainest  and  truest :  but  this  is  not 
the  case. 

Very  true. 

And  this  is  the  state  in  which  the  soul  is  most  enthralled  by 
the  body. 

How  is  that? 

Why,  because  each  pleasure  and  pain  is  a  sort  of  nail  which 
nails  and  rivets  the  soul  to  the  body,  and  engrosses  her  and 
makes  her  believe  that  to  be  true  which  the  body  affirms  to  be 
true;  and  from  agreeing  with  the  body  and  having  the  same 


PH^DO  107 

delights  she  is  obHged  to  have  the  same  habits  and  ways,  and 
is  not  Ukely  ever  to  be  pure  at  her  departure  to  the  world  below, 
but  is  always  saturated  with  the  body ;  so  that  she  soon  sinks 
into  another  body  and  there  germinates  and  grows,  and  has 
therefore  no  part  in  the  communion  of  the  divine  and  pure  and 
simple.  ' 

That  is  most  true,  Socrates,  answered  Cebes. 

And  this,  Cebes,  is  the  reason  why  the  true  lovers  of  knowl- 
edge are  temperate  and  brave ;  and  not  for  the  reason  which  the 
world  gives. 

Certainly  not. 

Certainly  not!  For  not  in  that  way  does  the  soul  of  a 
philosopher  reason ;  she  will  not  ask  philosophy  to  release  her 
in  order  that  when  released  she  may  deliver  herself  up  again  to 
the  thraldom  of  pleasures  and  pains,  doing  a  work  only  to  be 
undone  again,  weaving  instead  of  unweaving  her  Penelope's 
web.  But  she  will  make  herself  a  calm  of  passion,  and  follow 
Reason,  and  dwell  in  her,  beholding  the  true  and  divine  (which 
is  not  matter  of  opinion),  and  thence  derive  nourishment.  Thus 
she  seeks  to  live  while  she  lives,  and  after  death  she  hopes  to 
go  to  her  own  kindred  and  to  be  freed  from  human  ills.  Never 
fear,  Simmias  and  Cebes,  that  a  soul  which  has  been  thus  nur- 
tured and  has  had  these  pursuits,  will  at  her  departure  from  the 
body  be  scattered  and  blown  away  by  the  winds  and  be  nowhere 
and  nothing. 

When  Socrates  had  done  speaking,  for  a  considerable  time 
there  was  silence ;  he  himself  and  most  of  us  appeared  to  be 
meditating  on  what  had  been  said ;  only  Cebes  and  Simmias 
spoke  a  few  words  to  one  another.  And  Socrates  observing 
this  asked  them  what  they  thought  of  the  argument,  and 
whether  there  was  anything  wanting?  For,  said  he,  much  is 
still  open  to  suspicion  and  attack,  if  any  one  were  disposed  to 
sift  the  matter  thoroughly.  If  you  are  talking  of  something 
else  I  would  rather  not  interrupt  you,  but  if  you  are  still  doubt- 
ful about  the  argument  do  not  hesitate  to  say  exactly  what  you 
think,  and  let  us  have  anything  better  which  you  can  suggest ; 
and  if  I  am  likely  to  be  of  any  use,  allow  me  to  help  you. 

Simmias  said :  I  must  confess,  Socrates,  that  doubts  did  arise 
in  our  minds,  and  each  of  us  was  urging  and  inciting  the  other 
to  put  the  question  which  he  wanted  to  have  answered  and 
which  neither  of  us  liked  to  ask,  fearing  that  our  importunity 
might  be  troublesome  under  present  circumstances. 


io8  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

Socrates  smiled  and  said:  O  Simmias,  how  strange  that  is; 
I  am  not  very  Hkely  to  persuade  other  men  that  I  do  not  regard 
my  present  situation  as  a  misfortune,  if  I  am  unable  to  persuade 
you,  and  you  will  keep  fancying  that  I  am  at  all  more  troubled 
now  than  at  any  other  time.  Will  you  not  allow  that  I  have  as 
much  of  the  spirit  of  prophecy  in  me  as  the  swans  ?  For  they, 
when  they  perceive  that  they  must  die,  having  sung  all  their 
life  long,  do  then  sing  more  than  ever,  rejoicing  in  the  thought 
that  they  are  about  to  go  away  to  the  god  whose  ministers  they 
are.  But  men,  because  they  are  themselves  afraid  of  death, 
slanderously  affirm  of  the  swans  that  they  sing  a  lament  at  the 
last,  not  considering  that  no  bird  sings  when  cold,  or  hungry, 
or  in  pain,  not  even  the  nightingale,  nor  the  swallow,  nor  yet 
the  hoopoe ;  which  are  said  indeed  to  tune  a  lay  of  sorrow,  al- 
though I  do  not  believe  this  to  be  true  of  them  any  more  than 
•of  the  swans.  But  because  they  are  sacred  to  Apollo  and  have 
the  gift  of  prophecy  and  anticipate  the  good  things  of  another 
world,  therefore  they  sing  and  rejoice  in  that  day  more  than 
they  ever  did  before.  And  I,  too,  believing  myself  to  be  the 
consecrated  servant  of  the  same  God,  and  the  fellow  servant  of 
the  swans,  and  thinking  that  I  have  received  from  my  master 
gifts  of  prophecy  which  are  not  inferior  to  theirs,  would  not  go 
out  of  life  less  merrily  than  the  swans.  Cease  to  mind  then 
about  this,  but  speak  and  ask  anything  which  you  like,  while 
the  eleven  magistrates  of  Athens  allow. 

Well,  Socrates,  said  Simmias,  then  I  will  tell  you  my  diffi- 
culty, and  Cebes  will  tell  you  his.  For  I  dare  say  that  you, 
Socrates,  feel  as  I  do,  how  very  hard  or  almost  impossible  is  the 
attainment  of  any  certainty  about  questions  such  as  these  in 
the  present  life.  And  yet  I  should  deem  him  a  coward  who  did 
not  prove  of  what  is  said  about  them  to  the  uttermost,  or  whose 
heart  failed  him  before  he  had  examined  them  on  every  side. 
For  he  should  persevere  until  he  has  attained  one  of  two  things : 
either  he  should  discover  or  learn  the  truth  about  them  ;  or,  if 
this  is  impossible,  I  would  have  him  take  the  best  and  most 
irrefragable  of  human  notions,  and  let  this  be  the  raft  upon 
which  he  sails  through  life — not  without  risk,  as  I  admit,  if  he 
cannot  find  some  word  of  God  which  will  more  surely  and  safely 
carry  him.  And  now,  as  you  bid  me,  I  will  venture  to  question 
you,  as  I  should  not  like  to  reproach  myself  hereafter  with  not 
having  said  at  the  time  what  I  think.     For  when  I  consider  the 


PH^DO 


109 


matter  either  alone  or  with  Cebes,  the  argument  does  certainly 
appear  to  me,  Socrates,  to  be  not  sufficient. 

Socrates  answered :  I  dare  say,  my  friend,  that  you  may  be 
right,  but  I  should  like  to  know  in  what  respect  the  argument 
is  not  sufficient. 

In  this  respect,  replied  Simmias :  Might  not  a  person  use  the 
same  argument  about  harmony  and  the  lyre — might  he  not  say 
that  harmony  is  a  thing  invisible,  incorporeal,  fair,  divine,  abid- 
ing in  the  lyre  which  is  harmonized,  but  that  the  lyre  and  the 
strings  are  matter  and  material,  composite,  earthy,  and  akin  to 
mortality?  And  when  some  one  breaks  the  lyre,  or  cuts  and 
rends  the  strings,  then  he  who  takes  this  view  would  argue  as 
you  do,  and  on  the  same  analogy,  that  the  harmony  survives 
and  has  not  perished  ;  for  you  cannot  imagine,  as  we  would  say, 
that  the  lyre  without  the  strings,  and  the  broken  strings  them- 
selves, remain,  and  yet  that  the  harmony,  which  is  of  heavenly 
and  immortal  nature  and  kindred,  has  perished — and  perished 
too  before  the  mortal.  The  harmony,  he  would  say,  certainly 
exists  somewhere,  and  the  wood  and  strings  will  decay  before 
that  decays.  For  I  suspect,  Socrates,  that  the  notion  of  the 
soul  which  we  are  all  of  us  inclined  to  entertain,  would  also  be 
yours,  and  that  you  too  would  conceive  the  body  to  be  strung 
up,  and  held  together,  by  the  elements  of  hot  and  cold,  wet  and 
dry,  and  the  like,  and  that  the  soul  is  the  harmony  or  due  pro- 
portionate admixture  of  them.  And,  if  this  is  true,  the  infer- 
ence clearly  is  that  when  the  strings  of  the  body  are  unduly 
loosened  or  overstrained  through  disorder  or  other  injury,  then 
the  soul,  though  most  divine,  like  other  harmonies  of  music  or 
of  the  works  of  art,  of  course  perishes  at  once,  although  the 
material  remains  of  the  body  may  last  for  a  considerable  time, 
until  they  are  either  decayed  or  burnt.  Now  if  any  one  main- 
tained that  the  soul,  being  the  harmony  of  the  elements  of  the 
body,  first  perishes  in  that  which  is  called  death,  how  shall  we 
answer  him  ? 

Socrates  looked  round  at  us  as  his  manner  was,  and  said,  with 
a  smile :  Simmias  has  reason  on  his  side ;  and  why  does  not 
some  one  of  you  who  is  abler  than  myself  answer  him?  for 
there  is  force  in  his  attack  upon  me.  But  perhaps,  before  we 
answer  him,  we  had  better  also  hear  what  Cebes  has  to  say 
against  the  argument — this  will  give  us  time  for  reflection,  and 
when  both  of  them  have  spoken,  we  may  either  assent  to  them, 


no  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

if  their  words  appear  to  be  in  consonance  with  the  truth, 
or  if  not,  we  may  take  up  the  other  side,  and  argue  with  them. 
Please  to  tell  me  then,  Cebes,  he  said,  what  was  the  difficulty 
which  troubled  you  ? 

Cebes  said :  1  will  tell  you.  My  feeling  is  that  the  argument 
is  still  in  the  same  position,  and  open  to  the  same  objections 
which  were  urged  before ;  for  I  am  ready  to  admit  that  the 
existence  of  the  soul  before  entering  into  the  bodily  form  has 
been  very  ingeniously,  and,  as  I  may  be  allowed  to  say,  quite 
sufficiently  proven ;  but  the  existence  of  the  soul  after  death  is 
still,  in  my  judgment,  unproven.  Now  my  objection  is  not  the 
same  as  that  of  Simmias ;  for  I  am  not  disposed  to  deny  that  the 
soul  is  stronger  and  more  lasting  than  the  body,  being  of  opin- 
ion that  in  all  such  respects  the  soul  very  far  excels  the  body. 
Well,  then,  says  the  argument  to  me,  why  do  you  remain  un- 
convinced ?  When  you  see  that  the  weaker  is  still  in  existence 
after  the  man  is  dead,  will  you  not  admit  that  the  more  lasting 
must  also  survive  during  the  same  period  of  time  ?  Now  I,  like 
Simmias,  must  employ  a  figure ;  and  I  shall  ask  you  to  consider 
whether  the  figure  is  to  the  point.  The  parallel  which  I  will 
suppose  is  that  of  an  old  weaver,  who  dies,  and  after  his  death 
somebody  says :  He  is  not  dead,  he  must  be  alive ;  and  he  ap- 
peals to  the  coat  which  he  himself  wove  and  wore,  and  which 
is  still  whole  and  undecayed.  And  then  he  proceeds  to  ask  of 
some  one  who  is  incredulous,  whether  a  man  lasts  longer,  or 
the  coat  which  is  in  use  and  wear ;  and  when  he  is  answered  that 
a  man  lasts  far  longer,  thinks  that  he  has  thus  certainly  demon- 
strated the  survival  of  the  man,  who  is  the  more  lasting,  because 
the  less  lasting  remains.  But  that,  Simmias,  as  I  would  beg 
you  to  observe,  is  not  the  truth ;  every  one  sees  that  he  who 
talks  thus  is  talking  nonsense.  For  the  truth  is  that  this 
weaver,  having  worn  and  woven  many  such  coats,  though  he 
outlived  several  of  them,  was  himself  outlived  by  the  last ;  but 
this  is  surely  very  far  from  proving  that  a  man  is  slighter  and 
weaker  than  a  coat.  Now  the  relation  of  the  body  to  the  soul 
may  be  expressed  in  a  similar  figure ;  for  you  may  say  with 
reason  that  the  soul  is  lasting,  and  the  body  weak  and  short- 
lived in  comparison.  And  every  soul  may  be  said  to  wear  out 
many  bodies,  especially  In  the  course  of  a  long  life.  For  if 
while  the  man  is  alive  the  body  deliquesces  and  decays,  and  yet 
the  soul  always  weaves  her  garment  anew  and  repairs  the  waste, 


PH^DO  III 

then  of  course,  when  the  soul  perishes,  she  must  have  on  her 
last  garment,  and  this  only  will  survive  her;  but  then  again 
when  the  soul  is  dead  the  body  will  at  last  show  its  native  weak- 
ness, and  soon  pass  into  decay.  And  therefore  this  is  an  argu- 
ment on  which  I  would  rather  not  rely  as  proving  that  the  soul 
exists  after  death.  For  suppose  that  we  grant  even  more  than 
you  affirm  as  within  the  range  of  possibility,  and  besides  ac- 
knowledging that  the  soul  existed  before  birth  admit  also  that 
after  death  the  souls  of  some  are  existing  still,  and  will  exist, 
and  will  be  born  and  die  again  and  again,  and  that  there  is  a 
natural  strength  in  the  soul  which  will  hold  out  and  be  born 
many  times — for  all  this,  we  may  be  still  inclined  to  think  that 
she  will  weary  in  the  labors  of  successive  births,  and  may  at 
last  succumb  in  one  of  her  deaths  and  utterly  perish ;  and  this 
death  and  dissolution  of  the  body  which  brings  destruction  to 
the  soul  may  be  unknown  to  any  of  us,  for  no  one  of  us  can 
have  had  any  experience  of  it :  and  if  this  be  true,  then  I  say  that 
he  who  is  confident  in  death  has  but  a  foolish  confidence,  un- 
less he  is  able  to  prove  that  the  soul  is  altogether  immortal  and 
imperishable.  But  if  he  is  not  able  to  prove  this,  he  who  is 
about  to  die  will  always  have  reason  to  fear  that  when  the  body 
is  disunited,  the  soul  also  may  utterly  perish. 

All  of  us,  as  we  afterwards  remarked  to  one  another,  had  an 
unpleasant  feeling  at  hearing  them  say  this.  When  we  had 
been  so  firmly  convicted  before,  now  to  have  our  faith  shaken 
seemed  to  introduce  a  confusion  and  uncertainty,  not  only  into 
the  previous  argument,  but  into  any  future  one ;  either  we  were 
not  good  judges,  or  there  were  no  real  grounds  of  behef. 

Ech.  There  I  feel  with  you — indeed  I  do,  Phsedo,  and  when 
you  were  speaking,  I  was  beginning  to  ask  myself  the  same 
question  :  What  argument  can  I  ever  trust  again  ?  For  what 
could  be  more  convincing  than  the  argument  of  Socrates,  which 
has  now  fallen  into  discredit  ?  That  the  soul  is  a  harmony  is  a 
doctrine  which  has  always  had  a  wonderful  attraction  for  me, 
and,  when  mentioned,  came  back  to  me  at  once,  as  my  own 
original  conviction.  And  now  I  must  begfin  again  and  find 
another  argument  which  will  assure  me  that  when  the  man  is 
dead  the  soul  dies  not  with  him.  Tell  me,  I  beg,  how  did  Soc- 
rates proceed  ?  Did  he  appear  to  share  the  unpleasant  feeling 
which  you  mention  ?  or  did  he  receive  the  interruption  calmly 
and  give  a  sufficient  answer?  Tell  us,  as  exactly  as  you  can, 
what  passed. 


113  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

Ph<JBd.  Often,  Echecrates,  as  I  have  admired  Socrates,  I  never 
admired  him  more  than  at  that  moment.  That  he  should  be 
able  to  answer  was  nothing,  but  what  astonished  me  was^  first, 
the  gentle  and  pleasant  and  approving  manner  in  which  he  re- 
garded the  words  of  the  young  men,  and  then  his  quick  sense 
of  the  wound  which  had  been  inflicted  by  the  argument,  and 
his  ready  application  of  the  healing  art.  He  might  be  com- 
pared to  a  general  rallying  his  defeated  and  broken  army,  urg- 
ing them  to  follow  him  and  return  to  the  field  of  argument. 

Ech.  How  was  that  ? 

Phcrd.  You  shall  hear,  for  I  was  close  to  him  on  his  right 
hand,  seated  on  a  sort  of  stool,  and  he  on  a  couch  which  was  a 
good  deal  higher.  Now  he  had  a  way  of  playing  with  my  hair, 
and  then  he  smoothed  my  head,  and  pressed  the  hair  upon  my 
neck,  and  said :  To-morrow,  Phaedo,  I  suppose  that  these  fair 
locks  of  yours  will  be  severed. 

Yes,  Socrates,  I  suppose  that  they  will,  I  replied. 

Not  so  if  you  will  take  my  advice. 

What  shall  I  do  with  them  ?  I  said. 

To-day,  he  replied,  and  not  to-morrow,  if  this  argument  dies 
and  cannot  be  brought  to  life  again  by  us,  you  and  I  will  both 
shave  our  locks ;  and  if  I  were  you,  and  could  not  maintain  my 
ground  against  Simmias  and  Cebes,  I  would  myself  take  an 
oath,  like  the  Argives,  not  to  wear  hair  any  more  until  I  had 
renewed  the  conflict  and  defeated  them. 

Yes,  I  said,  but  Heracles  himself  is  said  not  to  be  a  match 
lor  two. 

Summon  me  then,  he  said,  and  I  will  be  your  lolaus  until  the 
«un  goes  down. 

I  summon  you  rather,  I  said,  not  as  Heracles  summoning 
lolaus,  but  as  lolaus  might  summon  Heracles. 

That  will  be  all  the  same,  he  said.  But  first  let  us  take  care 
that  we  avoid  a  danger. 

And  what  is  that  ?  I  said. 

The  danger  of  becoming  misologists,  he  replied,  which  is 
one  of  the  very  worst  things  that  can  happen  to  us.  For  as 
there  are  misanthropists  or  haters  of  men,  there  are  also  mis- 
ologists or  haters  of  ideas,  and  both  spring  from  the  same 
cause,  which  is  ignorance  of  the  world.  Misanthropy  arises 
from  the  too  great  confidence  of  inexperience ;  you  trust  a  man 
and  think  him  altogether  true  and  good  and  faithful,  and  then 


PH^DO  113 

in  a  little  while  he  turns  out  to  be  false  and  knavish ;  and  then 
another  and  another,  and  when  this  has  happened  several  times 
to  a  man,  especially  within  the  circle  of  his  own  most  trusted 
friends,  as  he  deems  them,  and  he  has  often  quarreled  with 
them,  he  at  last  hates  all  men,  and  believes  that  no  one  has  any 
good  in  him  at  all.  I  dare  say  that  you  must  have  observed 
this. 

Yes,  I  said. 

And  is  not  this  discreditable?  The  reason  is  that  a  man, 
having  to  deal  with  other  men,  has  no  knowledge  of  them ;  for 
if  he  had  knowledge  he  would  have  known  the  true  state  of  the 
case,  that  few^  are  the  good  and  few  the  evil,  and  that  the  great 
majority  are  in  the  interval  between  them. 

How  do  you  mean  ?  I  said. 

I  mean,  he  replied,  as  you  might  say  of  the  very  large  and 
very  small,  that  nothing  is  more  uncommon  than  a  very  large 
or  a  very  small  man ;  and  this  applies  generally  to  all  extremes, 
whether  of  great  and  small,  or  swift  and  slow,  or  fair  and  foul, 
or  black  and  white :  and  whether  the  instances  you  select  be 
men  or  dogs  or  anything  else,  few  are  the  extremes,  but  many 
are  in  the  mean  between  them.     Did  you  never  observe  this  ? 

Yes,  I  said,  I  have. 

And  do  you  not  imagine,  he  said,  that  if  there  were  a  compe- 
tition of  evil,  the  first  in  evil  would  be  found  to  be  very  few  ? 

Yes,  that  is  very  likely,  I  said. 

Yes,  that  is  very  likely,  he  replied ;  not  that  in  this  respect 
arguments  are  like  men — there  I  w'as  led  on  by  you  to  say  more 
than  I  had  intended  ;  but  the  point  of  comparison  was  that  when 
a  simple  man  who  has  no  skill  in  dialectics  believes  an  argument 
to  be  true  which  he  afterwards  imagines  to  be  false,  whether 
really  false  or  not,  and  then  another  and  another,  he  has  no 
longer  any  faith  left,  and  great  disputers,  as  you  know,  come  to 
think  at  last  that  they  have  grown  to  be  the  wisest  of  man- 
kind ;  for  they  alone  perceive  the  utter  unsoundness  and  insta- 
bility of  all  arguments,  or,  indeed,  of  all  things,  which,  like  the 
currents  in  the  Euripus,  are  going  up  and  down  in  never-ceas- 
ing ebb  and  flow. 

That  is  quite  true,  I  said. 

Yes,  Phaedo,  he  replied,  and  very  melancholy  too,  if  there 
be  such  a  thing  as  truth  or  certainty  or  power  of  knowing  at  all, 
that  a  man  should  have  lighted  upon  some  argument  or  other 
8 


114  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

which  at  first  seemed  true  and  then  turned  out  to  be  false,  and 
instead  of  blaming  himself  and  his  own  want  of  wit,  because  he 
is  annoyed,  should  at  last  be  too  glad  to  transfer  the  blame 
from  himself  to  arguments  in  general ;  and  forever  afterwards 
should  hate  and  revile  them,  and  lose  the  truth  and  knowledge 
of  existence. 

Yes,  indeed,  I  said ;  that  is  very  melancholy. 

Let  us,  then,  in  the  first  place,  he  said,  be  careful  of  admitting 
into  our  souls  the  notion  that  there  is  no  truth  or  health  or 
soundness  in  any  arguments  at  all ;  but  let  us  rather  say  that 
there  is  as  yet  no  health  in  us,  and  that  we  must  quit  ourselves 
like  men  and  do  our  best  to  gain  health — you  and  all  other  men 
with  a  view  to  the  whole  of  your  future  life,  and  I  myself  with  a 
view  to  death.  For  at  this  moment  I  am  sensible  that  I  have 
not  the  temper  of  a  philosopher ;  like  the  vulgar,  I  am  only  a 
partisan.  For  the  partisan,  when  he  is  engaged  in  a  dispute, 
cares  nothing  about  the  rights  of  the  question,  but  is  anxious 
only  to  convince  his  hearers  of  his  own  assertions.  And  the 
difference  between  him  and  me  at  the  present  moment  is  only 
this — that  whereas  he  seeks  to  convince  his  hearers  that  what 
he  says  is  true,  I  am  rather  seeking  to  convince  myself ;  to  con- 
vince my  hearers  is  a  secondary  matter  with  me.  And  do  but 
see  how  much  I  gain  by  this.  For  if  what  I  say  is  true,  then  1 
do  well  to  be  persuaded  of  the  truth,  but  if  there  be  nothing  after 
death,  still,  during  the  short  time  that  remains,  I  shall  save  my 
friends  from  lamentations,  and  my  ignorance  will  not  last,  and 
therefore  no  harm  will  be  done.  This  is  the  state  of  mind,  Sim- 
mias  and  Cebes,  in  wHich  I  approach  the  argument.  And  I 
would  ask  you  to  be  thinking  of  the  truth  and  not  of  Socrates : 
agree  with  me,  if  I  seem  to  you  to  be  speaking  the  truth ;  or  if 
not,  withstand  me  might  and  main,  that  I  may  not  deceive  you 
as  well  as  myself  in  my  enthusiasm,  and,  like  the  bee,  leave  my 
sting  in  you  before  I  die. 

And  now  let  us  proceed,  he  said.  And  first  of  all  let  me  be 
sure  that  I  have  in  my  mind  what  you  were  saying.  Simmias,  if 
I  remember  rightly,  has  fears  and  misgivings  whether  the  soul, 
being  in  the  form  of  harmony,  although  a  fairer  and  diviner 
thing  than  the  body,  may  not  perish  first.  On  the  other  hand, 
Cebes  appeared  to  grant  that  the  soul  was  more  lasting  than 
the  body,  but  he  said  that  no  one  could  know  whether  the  soul, 
after  having  worn  out  many  bodies,  might  not  perish  herself 


PH^DO  115 

and  leave  her  last  body  behind  her ;  and  that  this  is  death,  which 
is  the  destruction  not  of  the  body  but  of  the  soul,  for  in  the  body 
the  work  of  destruction  is  ever  going  on.  Are  not  these,  Sim- 
mias  and  Cebes,  the  points  which  we  have  to  consider  ? 

They  both  agreed  to  this  statement  of  them. 

He  proceeded :  And  did  you  deny  the  force  of  the  whole  pre- 
ceding argument,  or  of  a  part  only? 

Of  a  part  only,  they  replied. 

And  what  did  you  think,  he  said,  of  that  part  of  the  argument 
in  which  we  said  that  knowledge  was  recollection  only,  and  in- 
ferred from  this  that  the  soul  must  have  previously  existed 
somewhere  else  before  she  was  enclosed  in  the  body?  Cebes 
said  that  he  had  been  wonderfully  impressed  by  that  part  of  the 
argument,  and  that  his  conviction  remained  unshaken.  Sim- 
mias  agreed,  and  added  that  he  himself  could  hardly  imagine 
the  possibility  of  his  ever  thinking  differently  about  that. 

But,  rejoined  Socrates,  you  will  have  to  think  differently,  my 
Theban  friend,  if  you  still  maintain  that  harmony  is  a  com- 
pound, and  that  the  soul  is  a  harmony  which  is  made  out  of 
strings  set  in  the  frame  of  the  body ;  for  you  will  surely  never 
allow  yourself  to  say  that  a  harmony  is  prior  to  the  elements 
which  compose  the  harmony. 

No,  Socrates,  that  is  impossible. 

But  do  you  not  see  that  you  are  saying  this  when  you  say  that 
the  soul  existed  before  she  took  the  form  and  body  of  man,  and 
was  made  up  of  elements  which  as  yet  had  no  existence  ?  For 
harmony  is  not  a  sort  of  thing  like  the  soul,  as  you  suppose ;  but 
first  the  lyre,  and  the  strings,  and  the  sounds  exist  in  a  state  of 
discord,  and  then  harmony  is  made  last  of  all,  and  perishes  first. 
And  how  can  such  a  notion  of  the  soul  as  this  agree  with  the 
other? 

Not  at  all,  replied  Simmias. 

And  yet,  he  said,  there  surely  ought  to  be  harmony  when 
harmony  is  the  theme  of  discourse. 

There  ought,  replied  Simmias. 

But  there  is  no  harmony,  he  said,  in  the  two  propositions 
that  knowledge  is  recollection,  and  that  the  soul  is  a  harmony. 
Which  of  them,  then,  will  you  retain? 

I  think,  he  replied,  that  I  have  a  much  stronger  faith,  Soc- 
rates, in  the  first  of  the  two,  which  has  been  fully  demonstrated 
to  me,  than  in  the  latter,  which  has  not  been  demonstrated  at 


Il6  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

all,  but  rests  only  on  probable  and  plausible  grounds;  and  jf 
know  too  well  that  these  arguments  from  probabilities  are  im- 
postors, and  unless  great  caution  is  observed  in  the  use  of  them 
they  are  apt  to  be  deceptive — in  geometry,  and  in  other  things 
too.  But  the  doctrine  of  knowledge  and  recollection  has  been 
proven  to  me  on  trustworthy  grounds ;  and  the  proof  was  that 
the  soul  must  have  existed  before  she  came  into  the  body,  be- 
cause to  her  belongs  the  essence  of  which  the  very  name  implies 
existence.  Having,  as  I  am  convinced,  rightly  accepted  this 
conclusion,  and  on  sufficient  grounds,  I  must,  as  I  suppose, 
cease  to  argue  or  allow  others  to  argue  that  the  soul  is  a  har- 
mony. 

Let  me  put  the  matter,  Simmias,  he  said,  in  another  point  of 
view :  Do  you  imagine  that  a  harmony  or  any  other  composi- 
tion can  be  in  a  state  other  than  that  of  the  elements  out  of  which 
it  is  compounded? 

Certainly  not. 

Or  do  or  suffer  anything  other  than  they  do  or  suffer  ? 

He  agreed. 

Then  a  harmony  does  not  lead  the  parts  or  elements  which 
make  up  the  harmony,  but  only  follows  them. 

He  assented. 

For  harmony  cannot  possibly  have  any  motion,  or  sound,  or 
other  quality  which  is  opposed  to  the  parts. 

That  would  be  impossible,  he  replied, 

And  does  not  every  harmony  depend  upon  the  manner  in 
which  the  elements  are  harmonized  ? 

I  do  not  understand  you,  he  said. 

I  mean  to  say  that  a  harmony  admits  of  degrees,  and  is  more 
of  a  harmony,  and  more  completely  a  harmony,  when  more 
completely  harmonized,  if  that  be  possible ;  and  less  of  a  har- 
mony, and  less  completely  a  harmony,  when  less  harmonized. 

True. 

But  does  the  soul  admit  of  degrees  ?  or  is  one  soul  in  the  very 
least  degree  more  or  less,  or  more  or  less  completely,  a  soul 
than  another? 

Not  in  the  least. 

Yet  surely  one  soul  is  said  to  have  intelligence  and  virtue, 
and  to  be  good,  and  another  soul  is  said  to  have  folly  and  vice, 
and  to  be  an  evil  soul :  and  this  is  said  truly  ? 

Yes,  truly. 


PH^DO  117 

But  what  will  those  who  maintain  the  soul  to  be  a  harmony 
say  of  this  presence  of  virtue  and  vice  in  the  soul? — will  they 
say  that  there  is  another  harmony,  and  another  discord,  and 
that  the  virtuous  soul  is  harmonized,  and  herself  being  har- 
mony has  another  harmony  within  her,  and  that  the  vicious 
soul  is  inharmonical  and  has  no  harmony  within  her  ? 

I  cannot  say,  replied  Simmias ;  but  I  suppose  that  something 
of  that  kind  would  be  asserted  by  those  who  take  this  view. 

And  the  admission  is  already  made  that  no  soul  is  more  a 
soul  than  another ;  and  this  is  equivalent  to  admitting  that  har- 
mony is  not  more  or  less  harmony,  or  more  or  less  completely 
a  harmony  ? 

Quite  true. 

And  that  which  is  not  more  or  less  a  harmony  is  not  more  or 
less  harmonized? 

True. 

And  that  which  is  not  more  or  less  harmonized  cannot  have 
more  or  less  of  harmony,  but  only  an  equal  harmony  ? 

Yes,  an  equal  harmony. 

Then  one  soul  not  being  more  or  less  absolutely  a  soul  than 
another,  is  not  more  or  less  harmonized  ? 

Exactly. 

And  therefore  has  neither  more  nor  less  of  harmony  or  of 
discord  ? 

She  has  not. 

And  having  neither  more  nor  less  of  harmony  or  of  discord, 
one  soul  has  no  more  vice  or  virtue  than  another,  if  vice  be  dis- 
cord and  virtue  harmony  ? 

Not  at  all  more. 

Or  speaking  more  correctly,  Simmias,  the  soul,  if  she  is  a 
harmony,  will  never  have  any  vice ;  because  a  harmony,  being 
absolutely  a  harmony,  has  no  part  in  the  inharmonical  ? 

No. 

And  therefore  a  soul  which  is  absolutely  a  soul  has  no  vice  ? 

How  can  she  have,  consistently  with  the  preceding  argu- 
ment? 

Then,  according  to  this,  if  the  souls  of  all  animals  are  equally 
and  absolutely  souls,  they  will  be  equally  good  ? 

I  agree  with  you,  Socrates,  he  said. 

And  can  all  this  be  true,  think  you  ?  he  said  ;  and  are  all  these 
consequences  admissible — which  nevertheless  seem  to  follow 
from  the  assumption  that  the  soul  is  a  harmony  ? 


ii8  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

Certainly  not,  he  said. 

Once  more,  he  said,  what  ruHng  principle  is  there  of  human 
things  other  than  the  soul,  and  especially  the  wise  soul?  Do 
you  know  of  any  ? 

Indeed,  I  do  not. 

And  is  the  soul  in  agreement  with  the  affections  of  the  body  ? 
or  is  she  at  variance  with  them  ?  For  example,  when  the  body 
is  hot  and  thirsty,  does  not  the  soul  incline  us  against  drinking? 
and  when  the  body  is  hungry,  against  eating?  And  this  is  only 
one  instance  out  of  ten  thousand  of  the  opposition  of  the  soul 
to  the  things  of  the  body. 

Very  true. 

But  we  have  already  acknowledged  that  the  soul,  being  a 
harmony,  can  never  utter  a  note  at  variance  with  the  tensions 
and  relaxations  and  vibrations  and  other  affections  of  the 
strings  out  of  which  she  is  composed ;  she  can  only  follow,  she 
cannot  lead  them  ? 

Yes,  he  said,  we  acknowledged  that,  certainly. 

And  yet  we  do  not  now  discover  the  soul  to  be  doing  the  exact 
opposite — leading  the  elements  of  which  she  is  believed  to  be 
composed ;  almost  always  opposing  and  coercing  them  in  all 
sorts  of  ways  throughout  life,  sometimes  more  violently  with 
the  pains  of  medicine  and  gymnastic ;  then  again  more  gently ; 
threatening  and  also  reprimanding  the  desires,  passions,  fears, 
as  if  talking  to  a  thing  which  is  not  herself,  as  Homer  in  the 
"  Odyssey  "  represents  Odysseus  doing  in  the  words, 

*'  He  beat  his  breast,  and  thus  reproached  his  heart : 
Endure,  my  heart ;    far  worse  hast  thou  endured !  " 

Do  you  think  that  Homer  could  have  written  this  under  the 
idea  that  the  soul  is  a  harmony  capable  of  being  led  by  the 
affections  of  the  body,  and  not  rather  of  a  nature  which  leads 
and  masters  them  ;  and  herself  a  far  diviner  thing  than  any  har- 
mony ? 

Yes,  Socrates,  I  quite  agree  to  that. 

Then,  my  friend,  we  can  never  be  right  in  saying  that  the  soul 
is  a  harmony,  for  that  would  clearly  contradict  the  divine 
Homer  as  well  as  ourselves. 

True,  he  said. 

Thus  much,  said  Socrates,  of  Harmonia,  your  Theban  god- 
dess, Cebes,  who  has  not  been  ungracious  to  us,  I  think ;  but 


PHMDO  119 

what  shall  I  say  to  the  Theban  Cadmus,  and  how  shall  I  pro- 
pitiate him  ? 

I  think  that  you  will  discover  a  way  of  propitiating  him,  said 
Cebes ;  I  am  sure  that  you  have  answered  the  argument  about 
harmony  in  a  manner  that  I  could  never  have  expected.  For 
when  Simmias  mentioned  his  objection,  I  quite  imagined  that 
no  answer  could  be  given  to  him,  and  therefore  I  was  surprised 
at  finding  that  his  argument  could  not  sustain  the  first  onset  of 
yours ;  and  not  impossibly  the  other,  whom  you  call  Cadmus, 
may  share  a  similar  fate. 

Nay,  my  good  friend,  said  Socrates,  let  us  not  boast,  lest 
some  evil  eye  should  put  to  flight  the  word  which  I  am  about 
to  speak.  That,  however,  may  be  left  in  the  hands  of  those 
above,  while  I  draw  near  in  Homeric  fashion,  and  try  the  met- 
tle of  your  words.  Briefly,  the  sum  of  your  objection  is  as  fol- 
lows :  You  want  to  have  proven  to  you  that  the  soul  is  imper- 
ishable and  immortal,  and  you  think  that  the  philosopher  who 
is  confident  in  death  has  but  a  vain  and  foolish  confidence,  if  he 
thinks  that  he  will  fare  better  than  one  who  has  led  another  sort 
of  life,  in  the  world  below,  unless  he  can  prove  this ;  and  you 
say  that  the  demonstration  of  the  strength  and  divinity  of  the 
soul,  and  of  her  existence  prior  to  our  becoming  men,  does  not 
necessarily  imply  her  immortality.  Granting  that  the  soul  is 
long-lived,  and  has  known  and  done  much  in  a  former  state, 
still  she  is  not  on  that  account  immortal ;  and  her  entrance  into 
the  human  form  may  be  a  sort  of  disease  which  is  the  beginning 
of  dissolution,  and  may  at  last,  after  the  toils  of  life  are  over, 
end  in  that  which  is  called  death.  And  whether  the  soul  enters 
into  the  body  once  only  or  many  times,  that,  as  you  would  say, 
makes  no  difference  in  the  fears  of  individuals.  For  any  man, 
who  is  not  devoid  of  natural  feeling,  has  reason  to  fear,  if  he 
has  no  knowledge  or  proof  of  the  soul's  immortality.  That  is 
what  I  suppose  you  to  say,  Cebes,  which  I  designedly  repeat, 
in  order  that  nothing  may  escape  us,  and  that  you  may,  if  you 
wish,  add  or  subtract  anything. 

But,  said  Cebes,  as  far  as  I  can  see  at  present,  I  have  nothing 
to  add  or  subtract ;  you  have  expressed  my  meaning.  , 

Socrates  paused  awhile,  and  seemed  to  be  absorbed  in  reflec- 
tion. At  length  he  said :  This  is  a  very  serious  inquiry  which 
you  are  raising.  Cebes,  involving  the  whole  question  of  genera- 
tion and  corruption,  about  which  I  will,  if  you  like,  give  you  my 


I20  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

own  experience ;  and  you  can  apply  this,  if  you  think  that  any- 
thing which  I  say  will  avail  towards  the  solution  of  your  diffi- 
culty. 

I  should  very  much  like,  said  Cebes,  to  hear  what  you  have 
to  say. 

Then  I  will  tell  you,  said  Socrates,  When  I  was  young,  Cebes, 
I  had  a  prodigious  desire  to  know  that  department  of  philosophy 
which  is  called  Natural  Science;  this  appeared  to  me  to  have 
lofty  aims,  as  being  the  science  which  has  to  do  with  the  causes 
of  things,  and  which  teaches  why  a  thing  is,  and  is  created  and 
destroyed ;  and  I  was  always  agitating  myself  with  the  consid- 
eration of  such  questions  as  these:  Is  the  growth  of  animals  the 
result  of  some  decay  which  the  hot  and  cold  principle  contract, 
as  some  have  said?  Is  the  blood  the  element  with  which  we 
think,  or  the  air,  or  the  fire  ?  or  perhaps  nothing  of  this  sort — 
but  the  brain  may  be  the  originating  power  of  the- perceptions 
of  hearing  and  sight  and  smell,  and  memory  and  opinion  may 
come  from  them,  and  science  may  be  based  on  memory  and 
opinion  when  no  longer  in  motion,  but  at  rest.  And  then  I 
went  on  to  examine  the  decay  of  them,  and  then  to  the  things 
of  heaven  and  earth,  and  at  last  I  concluded  that  I  was  wholly 
incapable  of  these  inquiries,  as  I  will  satisfactorily  prove  to  you. 
For  I  was  fascinated  by  them  to  such  a  degree  that  my  eyes 
grew  blind  to  things  that  I  had  seemed  to  myself,  and  also  to 
others,  to  know  quite  well ;  and  I  forgot  what  I  had  before 
thought  to  be  self-evident,  that  the  growth  of  man  is  the  result 
of  eating  and  drinking ;  for  when  by  the  digestion  of  food  flesh 
is  added  to  flesh  and  bone  to  bone,  and  whenever  there  is  an 
aggregation  of  congenial  elements,  the  lesser  bulk  becomes 
larger  and  the  small  man  greater.  Was  not  that  a  reasonable 
notion  ? 

Yes,  said  Cebes,  I  think  so. 

Well ;  but  let  me  tell  you  something  more.  There  was  a  time 
when  I  thought  that  I  understood  the  meaning  of  greater  and 
less  pretty  well ;  and  when  I  saw  a  great  man  standing  by  a  little 
one  I  fancied  that  one  was  taller  than  the  other  by  a  head,  or 
one  horse  would  appear  to  be  greater  than  another  horse :  and 
still  more  clearly  did  I  seem  to  perceive  that  ten  is  two  more 
than  eight,  and  that  two  cubits  are  more  than  one,  because  two 
is  twice  one. 

And  what  is  now  your  notion  of  such  matters  ?  said  Cebes. 


PH^DO  121 

I  should  be  far  enough  from  imagining,  he  replied,  that  I 
knew  the  cause  of  any  of  them,  indeed  I  should,  for  I  cannot 
satisfy  myself  that  when  one  is  added  to  one,  the  one  to  which 
the  addition  is  made  becomes  two,  or  that  the  two  units  added 
together  make  two  by  reason  of  the  addition.  For  I  cannot  un- 
derstand how,  when  separated  from  the  other,  each  of  them  was 
one  and  not  two,  and  now,  when  they  are  brought  together,  the 
mere  juxtaposition  of  them  can  be  the  cause  of  their  becoming 
two :  nor  can  I  understand  how  the  division  of  one  is  the  way  to 
make  two ;  for  then  a  different  cause  would  produce  the  same 
effect — as  in  the  former  instance  the  addition  and  juxtaposition 
of  one  to  one  was  the  cause  of  two,  in  this  the  separation  and 
subtraction  of  one  from  the  other  would  be  the  cause.  Nor  am 
I  any  longer  satisfied  that  I  understand  the  reason  why  one  or 
anything  else  either  is  generated  or  destroyed  or  is  at  all,  but  I 
have  in  my  mind  some  confused  notion  of  another  method,  and 
can  never  admit  this. 

Then  I  heard  some  one  who  had  a  book  of  Anaxagoras,  as 
he  said,  out  of  which  he  read  that  mind  was  the  disposer  and 
cause  of  all,  and  I  was  quite  delighted  at  the  notion  of  this, 
which  appeared  admirable,  and  I  said  to  myself:  If  mind  is  the 
disposer,  mind  will  dispose  all  for  the  best,  and  put  each  par- 
ticular in  the  best  place ;  and  I  argued  that  if  any  one  desired  to 
find  out  the  cause  of  the  generation  or  destruction  or  existence 
of  anything,  he  must  find  out  what  state  of  being  or  suffering 
or  doing  was  best  for  that  thing,  and  therefore  a  man  had  only 
to  consider  the  best  for  himself  and  others,  and  then  he  would 
also  know  the  worse,  for  that  the  same  science  comprised  both. 
And  I  rejoiced  to  think  that  I  had  found  in  Anaxagoras  a 
teacher  of  the  causes  of  existence  such  as  I  desired,  and  I  imag- 
ined that  he  would  tell  me  first  whether  the  earth  is  flat  or 
round ;  and  then  he  would  further  explain  the  cause  and  the 
necessity  of  this,  and  would  teach  me  the  nature  of  the  best  and 
show  that  this  was  best ;  and  if  he  said  that  the  earth  was  in  the 
centre,  he  would  explain  that  this  position  was  the  best,  and  I 
should  be  satisfied  if  this  were  shown  to  me,  and  not  want  any 
other  sort  of  cause.  And  I  thought  that  I  would  then  go  and 
ask  him  about  the  sun  and  moon  and  stars,  and  that  he  would 
explain  to  me  their  comparative  swiftness,  and  their  returnings 
and  various  states,  and  how  their  several  affections,  active  and 
passive,  were  all  for  the  best.     For  I  could  not  imagine  that 


132  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

when  he  spoke  of  mind  as  the  disposer  of  them,  he  would  give 
any  other  account  of  their  being  as  they  are,  except  that  this 
was  best ;  and  I  thought  that  when  he  had  explained  to  me  in 
detail  the  cause  of  each  and  the  cause  of  all,  he  would  go  on 
to  explain  to  me  what  was  best  for  each  and  what  was  best  for 
all.  I  had  hopes  which  I  would  not  have  sold  for  much,  and  I 
seized  the  books  and  read  them  as  fast  as  I  could  in  my  eager- 
ness to  know  the  better  and  the  worse. 

What  hopes  I  had  formed,  and  how  grievously  was  I  disap- 
pointed !  As  I  proceeded,  I  found  my  philosopher  altogether 
forsaking  mind  or  any  other  principle  of  order,  but  having  re- 
course to  air,  and  ether,  and  water,  and  other  eccentricities.  I 
might  compare  him  to  a  person  who  began  by  maintaining  gen- 
erally that  mind  is  the  cause  of  the  actions  of  Socrates,  but  who, 
when  he  endeavored  to  explain  the  causes  of  my  several  actions 
in  detail,  went  on  to  show  that  I  sit  here  because  my  body  is  made 
up  of  bones  and  muscles ;  and  the  bones,  as  he  would  say,  are 
hard  and  have  ligaments  which  divide  them,  and  the  muscles  are 
elastic,  and  they  cover  the  bones,  which  have  also  a  covering  or 
environment  of  flesh  and  skin  which  contains  them ;  and  as  the 
bones  are  lifted  at  their  joints  by  the  contraction  or  relaxation 
of  the  muscles,  I  am  able  to  bend  my  limbs,  and  this  is  why  I  am 
sitting  here  in  a  curved  posture :  that  is  what  he  would  say,  and 
he  would  have  a  similar  explanation  of  my  talking  to  you, 
which  he  would  attribute  to  sound,  and  air,  and  hearing,  and  he 
would  assign  ten  thousand  other  causes  of  the  same  sort,  for- 
getting to  mention  the  true  cause,  which  is  that  the  Athenians 
have  thought  fit  to  condemn  me,  and  accordingly  I  have  thought 
it  better  and  more  right  to  remain  here  and  undergo  my  sen- 
tence ;  for  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  these  muscles  and  bones 
of  mine  would  have  gone  off  to  Megara  or  Boeotia — by  the  dog 
of  Egypt  they  would,  if  they  had  ben  guided  only  by  their  own 
idea  of  what  was  best,  and  if  I  had  not  chosen  as  the  better  and 
nobler  part,  instead  of  playing  truant  and  running  away,  to  un- 
dergo any  punishment  which  the  State  inflicts.  There  is  surely 
a  strange  confusion  of  causes  and  conditions  in  all  this.  It  may 
be  said,  indeed,  that  without  bones  and  muscles  and  the  other 
parts  of  the  body  I  cannot  execute  my  purposes.  But  to  say 
that  I  do  as  I  do  because  of  them,  and  that  this  is  the  way  in 
which  mind  acts,  and  not  from  the  choice  of  the  best,  is  a  very 
careless  and  idle  mode  of  speaking.     I  wonder  that  they  cannot 


PH^DO  123 

distinguish  the  cause  from  the  condition,  which  the  many,  feel- 
ing about  in  the  dark,  are  always  mistaking  and  misnaming. 
And  thus  one  man  makes  a  vortex  all  round  and  steadies  the 
earth  by  the  heaven ;  another  gives  the  air  as  a  support  to  the 
earth,  which  is  a  sort  of  broad  trough.  Any  power  which  in 
disposing  them  as  they  are  disposes  them  for  the  best  never  en- 
ters into  their  minds,  nor  do  they  imagine  that  there  is  any 
superhuman  strength  in  that ;  they  rather  expect  to  find  another 
Atlas  of  the  world  who  is  stronger  and  more  everlasting  and 
more  containing  than  the  good  is,  and  are  clearly  of  opinion 
that  the  obligatory  and  containing  power  of  the  good  is  as  noth- 
ing ;  and  yet  this  is  the  principle  which  I  would  fain  learn  if  any 
one  would  teach  me.  But  as  I  have  failed  either  to  discover 
myself  or  to  learn  of  anyone  else,  the  nature  of  the  best,  I  will 
exhibit  to  you,  if  you  like,  what  I  have  found  to  be  the  second 
best  mode  of  inquiring  into  the  cause. 

I  should  very  much  like  to  hear  that,  he  replied. 

Socrates  proceeded  :  I  thought  that  as  I  had  failed  in  the  con- 
templation of  true  existence,  I  ought  to  be  careful  that  I  did  not 
lose  the  eye  of  my  soul ;  as  people  may  injure  their  bodily  eye  by 
observing  and  gazing  on  the  sun  during  an  eclipse,  unless  they 
take  the  precaution  of  only  looking  at  the  image  reflected  in  the 
water,  or  in  some  similar  medium.  That  occurred  to  me,  and  I 
was  afraid  that  my  soul  might  be  blinded  altogether  if  I  looked 
at  things  with  my  eyes  or  tried  by  the  help  of  the  senses  to 
apprehend  them.  And  I  thought  that  I  had  better  have  re- 
course to  ideas,  and  seek  in  them  the  truth  of  existence.  I  dare 
say  that  the  simile  is  not  perfect — for  I  am  very  far  from  admit- 
ting that  he  who  contemplates  existences  through  the  medium 
of  ideas,  sees  them  only  "  through  a  glass  darkly,"  any  more 
than  he  who  sees  them  in  their  working  and  effects.  However, 
this  was  the  method  which  I  adopted :  I  first  assumed  some  prin- 
ciple which  I  judged  to  be  the  strongest,  and  then  I  affirmed  as 
true  whatever  seemed  to  agree  with  this,  whether  relating  to 
the  cause  or  to  anything  else ;  and  that  which  disagreed  I  re- 
garded as  untrue.  But  I  should  like  to  explain  my  meaning 
clearly,  as  I  do  not  think  that  you  understand  me. 

No,  indeed,  replied  Cebes,  not  very  w^ell. 

There  is -nothing  new,  he  said,  in  what  I  am  about  to  tell 
you  ;  but  only  what  I  have  been  always  and  everywhere  repeat- 
ing in  the  previous  discussion  and  on  other  occasions :  I  want 


124  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

to  show  you  the  nature  of  that  cause  which  has  occupied  my 
thoughts,  and  I  shall  have  to  go  back  to  those  familiar  words 
which  are  in  the  mouth  of  every  one,  and  first  of  all  assume  that 
there  is  an  absolute  beauty  and  goodness,  and  greatness,  and 
the  like ;  grant  me  this,  and  I  hope  to  be  able  to  show  you  the 
nature  of  the  cause,  and  to  prove  the  immortality  of  the  soul. 

Cebes  said:  You  may  proceed  at  once  with  the  proof,  as  I 
readily  grant  you  this. 

Well,  he  said,  then  I  should  like  to  know  whether  you  agree 
with  me  in  the  next  step ;  for  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  if 
there  be  anything  beautiful  other  than  absolute  beauty,  that 
can  only  be  beautiful  in  as  far  as  it  partakes  of  absolute  beauty 
— and  this  I  should  say  of  everything.  Do  you  agree  in  this 
notion  of  the  cause  ? 

Yes,  he  said,  I  agree. 

He  proceeded :  I  know  nothing  and  can  understand  nothing 
of  any  other  of  those  wise  causes  which  are  alleged ;  and  if  a 
person  says  to  me  that  the  bloom  of  color,  or  form,  or  anything 
else  of  that  sort  is  a  source  of  beauty,  I  leave  all  that,  which  is 
only  confusing  to  me,  and  simply  and  singly,  and  perhaps  fool- 
ishly, hold  and  am  assured  in  my  own  mind  that  nothing  makes 
a  thing  beautiful  but  the  presence  and  participation  of  beauty 
in  whatever  way  or  manner  obtained ;  for  as  to  the  manner  I 
am  uncertain,  but  I  stoutly  contend  that  by  beauty  all  beautiful 
things  become  beautiful.  That  appears  to  me  to  be  the  only 
safe  answer  that  I  can  give,  either  to  myself  or  to  any  other, 
and  to  that  I  cling,  in  the  persuasion  that  I  shall  never  be  over- 
thrown, and  that  I  may  safely  answer  to  myself  or  any  other 
that  by  beauty  beautiful  things  become  beautiful.  Do  you  not 
agfree  to  that  ? 

Yes,  I  agree. 

And  that  by  greatness  only  great  things  become  great  and 
greater  greater,  and  by  smallness  the  less  becomes  less. 

True. 

Then  if  a  person  remarks  that  A  is  taller  by  a  head  than  B, 
and  B  less  by  a  head  than  A,  you  would  refuse  to  admit  this, 
and  would  stoutly  contend  that  what  you  mean  is  only  that  the 
greater  is  greater  by,  and  by  reason  of,  greatness,  and  the  less 
is  less  only  by,  or  by  reason  of,  smallness ;  and  thus  you  would 
avoid  the  danger  of  saying  that  the  greater  is  greater  and  the 
less  less  by  the  measure  of  the  head,  which  is  the  same  in  both, 


PH^DO  125 

and  would  also  avoid  the  monstrous  absurdity  of  supposing  that 
the  greater  man  is  greater  by  reason  of  the  head,  which  is  small. 
Would  you  not  be  afraid  of  that  ? 

Indeed,  I  should,  said  Cebes,  laughing. 

In  like  manner  you  would  be  afraid  to  say  that  ten  exceeded 
eight  by,  and  by  reason  of,  two;  but  would  say  by,  and  by 
reason  of,  number;  or  that  two  cubits  exceed  one  cubit  by  a 
half,  but  by  magnitude — that  is  what  you  would  say,  for  there 
is  the  same  danger  in  both  cases. 

Very  true,  he  said. 

Again,  would  you  not  be  cautious  of  affirming  that  the  addi- 
tion of  one  to  one,  or  the  division  of  one,  is  the  cause  of  two  ? 
And  you  would  loudly  asseverate  that  you  know  of  no  way  in 
which  anything  comes  into  existence  except  by  participation  in 
its  own  proper  essence,  and  consequently,  as  far  as  you  know, 
the  only  cause  of  two  is  the  participation  in  duality ;  that  is,  the 
way  to  make  two,  and  the  participation  in  one  is  the  way  to 
make  one.  You  would  say :  I  will  let  alone  puzzles  of  division 
and  addition — wiser  heads  than  mine  may  answer  them ;  inex- 
perienced as  I  am,  and  ready  to  start,  as  the  proverb  says,  at  my 
own  shadow,  I  cannot  afford  to  give  up  the  sure  ground  of  a 
principle.  And  if  any  one  assails  you  there,  you  would  not 
mind  him,  or  answer  him  until  you  had  seen  whether  the  conse- 
quences which  follow  agree  with  one  another  or  not,  and  when 
you  are  further  required  to  give  an  explanation  of  this  principle, 
you  would  go  on  to  assume  a  higher  principle,  and  the  best  of 
the  higher  ones  until  you  found  a  resting-place  ;  but  you  would 
not  confuse  the  principle  and  the  consequences  in  your  reason- 
ing, like  the  Eristics — at  least  if  you  wanted  to  discover  real  ex- 
istence. Not  that  this  confusion  signifies  to  them  who  never 
care  or  think  about  the  matter  at  all,  for  they  have  the  wit  to  be 
well  pleased  with  themselves,  however  great  may  be  the  turmoil 
of  their  ideas.  But  you,  if  you  are  a  philosopher,  will,  I  be- 
lieve, do  as  I  say. 

What  you  say  is  most  true,  said  Simmias  and  Cebes,  both 
speaking  at  once. 

Ech.  Yes,  Phaedo;  and  I  don't  wonder  at  their  assenting. 
Anyone  who  has  the  least  sense  will  acknowledge  the  wonder- 
ful clearness  of  Socrates's  reasoning. 

Phced.  Certainly,  Echecrates ;  and  that  was  the  feeling  of  the 
whole  company  at  the  time. 


126  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

Ech.  Yes,  and  equally  of  ourselves,  who  were  not  of  the  com. 
pany,  and  are  now  listening  to  your  recital.  But  what  fol- 
lowed ? 

Phced.  After  all  this  was  admitted,  and  they  had  agreed 
about  the  existence  of  ideas  and  the  participation  in  them  of 
the  other  things  which  derive  their  names  from  them,  Soc- 
rates, if  I  remember  rightly,  said : — 

This  is  your  way  of  speaking;  and  yet  when  you  say  that 
Simmias  is  greater  than  Socrates  and  less  than  Phaedo,  do  you 
not  predicate  of  Simmias  both  greatness  and  smallness  ? 

Yes,  I  do. 

But  still  you  allow  that  Simmias  does  not  really  exceed  Soc- 
rates, as  the  words  may  seem  to  imply,  because  he  is  Simmias, 
but  by  reason  of  the  size  which  he  has ;  just  as  Simmias  does 
not  exceed  Socrates  because  he  is  Simmias,  any  more  than  be- 
cause Socrates  is  Socrates,  but  because  he  has  smallness  when 
compared  with  the  greatness  of  Simmias  ? 

True. 

And  if  Phaedo  exceeds  him  in  size,  that  is  not  because  Phsedo 
is  Phaedo,  but  because  Phaedo  has  greatness  relatively  to  Sim- 
mias, who  is  comparatively  smaller  ? 

That  is  true. 

And  therefore  Simmias  is  said  to  be  great,  and  is  also  said  to 
be  small,  because  he  is  in  a  mean  between  them,  exceeding  the 
smallness  of  the  one  by  his  greatness,  and  allowing  the  great- 
nes  of  the  other  to  exceed  his  smallness.  He  added,  laughing, 
I  am  speaking  like  a  book,  but  I  believe  that  what  I  am  saying 
is  true. 

Simmias  assented  to  this. 

The  reason  why  I  say  this  is  that  I  want  you  to  agree  with 
me  in  thinking,  not  only  that  absolute  greatness  will  never  be 
great  and  also  small,  but  that  greatness  in  us  or  in  the  concrete 
will  never  admit  the  small  or  admit  of  being  exceeded :  instead 
of  this,  one  of  two  things  will  happen — either  the  greater  will 
fly  or  retire  before  the  opposite,  which  is  the  less,  or  at  the  ad- 
vance of  the  less  will  cease  to  exist ;  but  will  not,  if  allowing  or 
admitting  smallness,  be  changed  by  that ;  even  as  I,  having  re- 
ceived and  admitted  smallness  when  compared  with  Simmias, 
remain  just  as  I  was,  and  am  the  same  small  person.  And  as 
the  idea  of  greatness  cannot  condescend  ever  to  be  or  become 
small,  in  like  manner  the  smallness  in  us  cannot  be  or  become 


PH^DO  127 

great ;  nor  can  any  other  opposite  which  remains  the  same  ever 
be  or  become  its  own  opposite,  but  either  passes  away  or  per- 
ishes in  the  change. 

That,  repHed  Cebes,  is  quite  my  notion. 

One  of  the  company,  though  I  do  not  exactly  remember 
which  of  them,  on  hearing  this,  said :  By  Heaven,  is  not  this 
the  direct  contrary  of  what  was  admitted  before — that  out  of 
the  greater  came  the  less  and  out  of  the  less  the  greater,  and 
that  opposites  were  simply  generated  from  opposites ;  whereas 
now  this  seems  to  be  utterly  denied. 

Socrates  inclined  his  head  to  the  speaker  and  listened.  I 
like  your  courage,  he  said,  in  reminding  us  of  this.  But  you  do 
not  observe  that  there  is  a  difference  in  the  two  cases.  For 
then  we  were  speaking  of  opposites  in  the  concrete,  and  now 
of  the  essential  opposite  which,  as  is  affirmed,  neither  in  us  nor 
in  nature  can  ever  be  at  variance  with  itself :  then,  my  friend,  we 
were  speaking  of  things  in  which  opposites  are  inherent  and 
which  are  called  after  them,  but  now  about  the  opposites  which 
are  inherent  in  them  and  which  give  their  name  to  them ;  these 
essential  opposites  will  never,  as  we  maintain,  admit  of  genera- 
tion into  or  out  of  one  another.  At  the  same  time,  turning  to 
Cebes,  he  said:  Were  you  at  all  disconcerted,  Cebes,  at  our 
friend's  objection? 

That  was  not  my  feeling,  said  Cebes ;  and  yet  I  cannot  deny 
that  I  am  apt  to  be  disconcerted. 

Then  we  are  agreed  after  all,  said  Socrates,  that  the  opposite 
will  never  in  any  case  be  opposed  to  itself? 

To  that  we  are  quite  agreed,  he  replied. 

Yet  once  more  let  me  ask  you  to  consider  the  question  from 
another  point  of  view,  and  see  whether  you  agree  with  me: 
There  is  a  thing  which  you  term  heat,  and  another  thing  which 
you  term  cold  ? 

Certainly. 

But  are  they  the  same  as  fire  and  snow? 

Most  assuredly  not. 

Heat  is  not  the  same  as  fire,  nor  is  cold  the  same  as  snow? 

No. 

And  yet  you  will  surely  admit  that  when  snow,  as  was  before 
said,  is  under  the  influence  of  heat,  they  will  not  remain  snow 
and  heat ;  but  at  the  advance  of  the  heat  the  snow  will  either 
retire  or  perish  ? 


Il8  DIALOGUES   OF   PLATO 

Very  true,  he  replied. 

And  the  fire  too  at  the  advance  of  the  cold  will  either  retire 
or  perish ;  and  when  the  fire  is  under  the  influence  of  the  cold, 
Aey  will  not  remain,  as  before,  fire  and  cold. 

That  is  true,  he  said. 

And  in  some  cases  the  name  of  the  idea  is  not  confined  to  the 
idea ;  but  anything  else  which,  not  being  the  idea,  exists  only  in 
the  form  of  the  idea,  may  also  lay  claim  to  it.  I  will  try  to  make 
this  clearer  by  an  example :  The  odd  number  is  always  called 
by  the  name  of  odd  ? 

Very  true. 

But  is  this  the  only  thing  which  is  called  odd?  Are  there 
not  other  things  which  have  their  own  name,  and  yet  are  called 
odd,  because,  although  not  the  same  as  oddness,  they  are  never 
without  oddness  ? — that  is  what  I  mean  to  ask — whether  num- 
bers such  as  the  number  three  are  not  of  the  class  of  odd.  And 
there  are  many  other  examples :  would  you  not  say,  for  exam- 
ple, that  three  may  be  called  by  its  proper  name,  and  also  be 
called  odd,  which  is  not  the  same  with  three  ?  and  this  may  be 
said  not  only  of  three  but  also  of  five,  and  every  alternate  num- 
ber— each  of  them  without  being  oddness  is  odd,  and  in  the 
same  way  two  and  four,  and  the  whole  series  of  alternate  num- 
bers, has  every  number  even,  without  being  evenness.  Do 
you  admit  that  ? 

Yes,  he  said,  how  can  I  deny  that  ? 
-^  Then  now  mark  the  point  at  which  I  am  aiming:  not  only  do 
essential  opposites  exclude  one  another,  but  also  concrete 
things,  which,  although  not  in  themselves  opposed,  contain 
opposites ;  these,  I  say,  also  reject  the  idea  which  is  opposed 
to  that  which  is  contained  in  them,  and  at  the  advance  of  that 
they  either  perish  or  withdraw.  There  is  the  number  three 
for  example ;  will  not  that  endure  annihilation  or  anything 
sooner  than  be  converted  into  an  even  number,  remaining 
three  ? 

Very  true,  said  Cebes. 

And  yet,  he  said,  the  number  two  is  certainly  not  opposed 
to  the  number  three? 

It  is  not. 

Then  not  only  do  opposite  ideas  repel  the  advance  of  one 
another,  but  also  there  are  other  things  which  repel  the  ap- 
proach of  opposites. 


PH^DO  129 

That  is  quite  true,  he  said. 

Suppose,  he  said,  that  we  endeavor,  if  possible,  to  determine 
what  these  are. 

By  all  means. 

Are  they  not,  Cebes,  such  as  compel  the  things  of  which  they 
have  possession,  not  only  to  take  their  own  form,  but  also  the 
form  of  some  opposite  ? 

What  do  you  mean  ? 

I  mean,  as  I  was  just  now  saying,  and  have  no  need  to  repeat 
to  you,  that  those  things  which  are  possessed  by  the  number 
three  must  not  only  be  three  in  number,  but  must  also  be  odd. 

Quite  true. 

And  on  this  oddness,  of  which  the  number  three  has  the  im- 
press, the  opposite  idea  will  never  intrude  ? 

No. 

And  this  impress  was  given  by  the  odd  principle? 

Yes. 

And  to  the  odd  is  opposed  the  even? 

True. 

Then  the  idea  of  the  even  number  will  never  arrive  at  three? 

No. 

Then  three  has  no  part  in  the  even? 

None. 

Then  the  triad  or  number  three  is  uneven  ? 

Very  true. 

To  return  then  to  my  distinction  of  natures  which  are  not 
opposites,  and  yet  do  not  admit  opposites :  as  in  this  instance, 
three  although  not  opposed  to  the  even,  does  not  any  the  more 
admit  of  the  even,  but  always  brings  the  opposite  into  play  on 
the  other  side ;  or  as  two  does  not  receive  the  odd,  or  fire  the 
cold — from  these  examples  (and  there  are  many  more  of  them) 
perhaps  you  may  be  able  to  arrive  at  the  general  conclusion  that 
not  only  opposites  will  not  receive  opposites,  but  also  that  noth- 
ing which  brings  the  opposite  will  admit  the  opposite  of  that 
which  it  brings  in  that  to  which  it  is  brought.  And  here  let  me 
recapitulate — for  there  is  no  harm  in  repetition.  The  number 
five  will  not  admit  the  nature  of  the  even,  any  more  than  ten, 
which  is  the  double  of  five,  will  admit  the  nature  of  the  odd — 
the  double,  though  not  strictly  opposed  to  the  odd,  rejects  the 
odd  altogether.  Nor  again  will  parts  in  the  ratio  of  3 :  2,  nor 
any  fraction  in  which  there  is  a  h^lf,  nor  again  in  which  there 
9 


13©  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

is  a  third,  admit  the  notion  of  the  whole,  although  they  are  not 
opposed  to  the  whole.     You  will  agree  to  that? 

Yes,  he  said,  I  entirely  agree  and  go  along  with  you  in  that 

And  now,  he  said,  I  think  that  I  may  begin  again ;  and  to  the 
question  which  I  am  about  to  ask  I  will  beg  you  to  give  not  the 
old  safe  answer,  but  another,  of  which  I  will  offer  you  an  ex- 
ample ;  and  I  hope  that  you  will  find  in  what  has  been  just  said 
another  foundation  which  is  as  safe.  I  mean  that  if  anyone 
asks  you,  "  What  that  is,  the  inherence  of  which  makes  the 
body  hot?  "  you  will  reply  not  heat  (this  is  what  I  call  the  safe 
and  stupid  answer),  but  fire,  a  far  better  answer,  which  we 
are  now  in  a  condition  to  give.  Or  if  anyone  asks  you,  "  Why 
a  body  is  diseased,"  you  will  not  say  from  disease,  but  from 
fever;  and  instead  of  saying  that  oddness  is  the  cause  of  odd 
numbers,  you  will  say  that  the  monad  is  the  cause  of  them: 
and  so  of  things  in  general,  as  I  dare  say  that  you  will  under- 
stand sufficiently  without  my  adducing  any  further  examples. 

Yes,  he  said,  I  quite  understand  you. 

Tell  me,  then,  what  is  that  the  inherence  of  which  will  render 
the  body  alive  ? 

The  soul,  he  replied. 

And  is  this  always  the  case  ? 

Yes,  he  said,  of  course. 

Then  whatever  the  soul  possesses,  to  that  she  comes  bearing 
life? 

Yes,  certainly. 

And  is  there  any  opposite  to  life? 

There  is,  he  said. 

And  what  is  that  ? 

Death. 

Then  the  soul,  as  has  been  acknowledged,  will  never  receive 
the  opposite  of  what  she  brings.  And  now,  he  said,  what  did 
we  call  that  principle  which  repels  the  even  ? 

The  odd. 

And  that  principle  which  repels  the  musical,  or  the  just? 

The  unmusical,  he  said,  and  the  unjust. 

And  what  do  we  call  that  principle  which  does  not  admit  of 
death  ? 

The  immortal,  he  said. 

And  does  the  soul  admit  of  death? 

No. 


PH^DO  131 

Then  the  soul  is  immortal  ? 

Yes,  he  said. 

And  may  we  say  that  this  is  proven? 

Yes,  abundantly  proven,  Socrates,  he  replied. 

And  supposing  that  the  odd  were  imperishable,  must  not 
three  be  imperishable  ? 

Of  course. 

And  if  that  which  is  cold  were  imperishable,  when  the  warm 
principle  came  attacking  the  snow,  must  not  the  snow  have 
retired  whole  and  unmelted — for  it  could  never  have  perished, 
nor  could  it  have  remained  and  admitted  the  heat  ? 

True,  he  said. 

Again,  if  the  uncooling  or  warm  principle  were  imperishable, 
the  fire  when  assailed  by  cold  would  not  have  perished  or  have 
been  extinguished,  but  would  have  gone  away  unaffected  ? 

Certainly,  he  said. 

And  the  same  may  be  said  of  the  immortal :  if  the  immortal  is 
also  imperishable,  the  soul  when  attacked  by  death  cannot  per- 
ish ;  for  the  preceding  argument  shows  that  the  soul  will  not 
admit  of  death,  or  ever  be  dead,  any  more  than  three  or  the 
odd  number  will  admit  of  the  even,  or  fire,  or  the  heat  in  the 
fire,  of  the  cold.  Yet  a  person  may  say :  "  But  although  the 
odd  will  not  become  even  at  the  approach  of  the  even,  why  may 
not  the  odd  perish  and  the  even  take  the  place  of  the  odd  ?  " 
Now  to  him  who  makes  this  objection,  we  cannot  answer  that 
the  odd  principle  is  imperishable ;  for  this  has  not  been  acknowl- 
edged, but  if  this  had  been  acknowledged,  there  would  have 
been  no  difficulty  in  contending  that  at  the  approach  of  the  even 
the  odd  principle  and  the  number  three  took  up  their  departure ; 
and  the  same  argument  would  have  held  good  of  fire  and  heat 
and  any  other  thing. 

Very  true. 

And  the  same  may  be  said  of  the  immortal :  if  the  immortal 
is  also  imperishable,  then  the  soul  will  be  imperishable  as  well  as 
immortal ;  but  if  not,  some  other  proof  of  her  imperishableness 
will  have  to  be  given. 

No  other  proof  is  needed,  he  said  ;  for  if  the  immortal,  being 
eternal,  is  liable  to  perish,  then  nothing  is  imperishable. 

Yes,  replied  Socrates,  all  men  will  agree  that  God,  and  the 
essential  form  of  life,  and  the  immortal  in  general  will  never 
perish. 


132 


DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 


Yes,  all  men,  he  said — that  is  true ;  and  what  is  more,  gods, 
if  I  am  not  mistaken,  as  well  as  men. 

Seeing  then  that  the  immortal  is  indestructible,  must  not  the 
soul,  if  she  is  immortal,  be  also  imperishable  ? 

Most  certainly. 

Then  when  death  attacks  a  man,  the  mortal  portion  of  him 
may  be  supposed  to  die,  but  the  immortal  goes  out  of  the  way 
of  death  and  is  preserved  safe  and  sound  ? 

True. 

Then,  Cebes,  beyond  question  the  soul  is  immortal  and  im- 
perishable, and  our  souls  will  truly  exist  in  another  world ! 

I  am  convinced,  Socrates,  said  Cebes,  and  have  nothing  more 
to  object;  but  if  my  friend  Simmias,  or  anyone  else,  has  any 
further  objection,  he  had  better  speak  out,  and  not  keep  silence, 
since  I  do  not  know  how  there  can  ever  be  a  more  fitting  time 
to  which  he  can  defer  the  discussion,  if  there  is  anything  which 
he  wants  to  say  or  have  said. 

But  I  have  nothing  more  to  say,  replied  Simmias ;  nor  do  I 
see  any  room  for  uncertainty,  except  that  which  arises  neces- 
sarily out  of  the  greatness  of  the  subject  and  the  feebleness  of 
man,  and  which  I  cannot  help  feeling. 

Yes,  Simmias,  replied  Socrates,  that  is  well  said :  and  more 
than  that,  first  principles,  even  if  they  appear  certain,  should  be 
carefully  considered;  and  when  they  are  satisfactorily  ascer- 
tained, then,  with  a  sort  of  hesitating  confidence  in  human 
reason,  you  may,  I  think,  follow  the  course  of  the  argument; 
and  if  this  is  clear,  there  will  be  no  need  for  any  further  inquiry. 

That,  he  said,  is  true. 

But  then,  O  my  friends,  he  said,  if  the  soul  is  really  immortal, 
what  care  should  be  taken  of  her,  not  only  in  respect  of  the 
portion  of  time  which  is  called  life,  but  of  eternity !  And  the 
danger  of  neglecting  her  from  this  point  of  view  does  indeed 
appear  to  be  awful.  If  death  had  only  been  the  end  of  all,  the 
wicked  would  have  had  a  good  bargain  in  dying,  for  they  would 
have  been  happily  quit  not  only  of  their  body,  but  of  their  own 
evil  together  with  their  souls.  But  now,  as  the  soul  plainly 
appears  to  be  immortal,  there  is  no  release  or  salvation  from  evil 
except  the  attainment  of  the  highest  virtue  and  wisdom.  For 
the  soul  when  on  her  progress  to  the  world  below  takes  noth- 
ing with  her  but  nurture  and  education ;  which  are  indeed  said 
greatly  to  benefit  or  srreatly  to  injure  the  departed,  at  the  very 
beginning  of  its  pilgrimage  in  the  other  world. 


PHi^DO  133 

For  after  death,  as  they  say,  the  genius  of  each  individual,  to 
whom  he  belonged  in  Hfe,  leads  him  to  a  certain  place  in  which 
the  dead  are  gathered  together  for  judgment,  whence  they  go 
into  the  world  below,  following  the  guide  who  is  appomted  to 
conduct  them  from  this  world  to  the  other :  and  when  they  have 
there  received  their  due  and  remained  their  time,  another  guide 
brings  them  back  again  after  many  revolutions  of  ages.  Now 
this  journey  to  the  other  world  is  not,  as  ^schylus  says  in  the 
"  Telephus,"  a  single  and  straight  path — no  guide  would  be 
wanted  for  that,  and  no  one  could  miss  a  single  path  ;  but  there 
are  many  partings  of  the  road,  and  windings,  as  I  must  infer 
from  the  rites  and  sacrifices  which  are  offered  to  the  gods  below 
in  places  where  three  ways  meet  on  earth.  The  wise  and  or- 
derly soul  is  conscious  of  her  situation  and  follows  in  the  path ; 
but  the  soul  which  desires  the  body,  and  which,  as  I  was  relat- 
ing before,  has  long  been  fluttering  about  the  lifeless  frame  and 
the  world  of  sight,  is  after  many  struggles  and  many  sufferings 
hardly  and  with  violence  carried  away  by  her  attendant  genius, 
and  when  she  arrives  at  the  place  where  the  other  souls  are  gath- 
ered, if  she  be  impure  and  have  done  impure  deeds,  or  been 
concerned  in  foul  murders  or  other  crimes  which  are  the  broth- 
ers of  these,  and  the  works  of  brothers  in  crime — from  that 
soul  every  one  flees  and  turns  away ;  no  one  will  be  her  com- 
panion, no  one  her  guide,  but  alone  she  wanders  in  extremity  of 
evil  until  certain  times  are  fulfilled,  and  when  they  are  fulfilled, 
she  is  borne  irresistibly  to  her  own  fitting  habitation ;  as  every 
pure  and  just  soul  which  has  passed  through  life  in  the  company 
and  under  the  guidance  of  the  gods  has  also  her  own  proper 
home. 

Now  the  earth  has  divers  wonderful  regions,  and  is  indeed  in 
nature  and  extent  very  unlike  the  notions  of  geographers,  as  I 
believe  on  the  authority  of  one  who  shall  be  nameless. 

What  do  you  mean,  Socrates  ?  said  Simmias.  I  have  myself 
heard  many  descriptions  of  the  earth,  but  I  do  not  know  in  what 
you  are  putting  your  faith,  and  I  should  like  to  know. 

Well,  Simmias,  replied  Socrates,  the  recital  of  a  tale  does  not, 
I  think,  require  the  art  of  Glaucus  ;  and  I  know  not  that  the  art 
of  Glaucus  could  prove  the  truth  of  my  tale,  which  I  myself 
should  never  be  able  to  prove,  and  even  if  I  could,  I  fear,  Sim- 
mias, that  my  life  would  come  to  an  end  before  the  argument 
was  completed.  T  may  describe  to  you,  however,  the  form 
and  regions  of  the  earth  according  to  my  conception  of  them. 


134  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

That,  said  Simmias,  will  be  enough. 

Well,  then,  he  said,  my  conviction  is  that  the  earth  is  a  round 
body  in  the  center  of  the  heavens,  and  therefore  has  no  need  of 
air  or  any  similar  force  as  a  support,  but  is  kept  there  and 
hindered  from  falling  or  inclining  any  way  by  the  equability  of 
the  surrounding  heaven  and  by  her  own  equipoise.  For  that 
which,  being  in  equipoise,  is  in  the  center  of  that  which  is 
equably  diffused,  will  not  incline  any  way  in  any  degree,  but 
will  always  remain  in  the  same  state  and  not  deviate.  And  this 
is  my  first  notion. 

Which  is  surely  a  correct  one,  said  Simmias. 

Also  I  believe  that  the  earth  is  very  vast,  and  that  we  who 
dwell  in  the  region  extending  from  the  river  Phasis  to  the  Pillars 
of  Heracles,  along  the  borders  of  the  sea,  are  just  like  ants  or 
frogs  about  a  marsh,  and  inhabit  a  small  portion  only,  and  that 
many  others  dwell  in  many  like  places.  For  I  should  say  that 
in  all  parts  of  the  earth  there  are  hollows  of  various  forms  and 
sizes,  into  which  the  water  and  the  mist  and  the  air  collect; 
and  that  the  true  earth  is  pure  and  in  the  pure  heaven,  in  which 
also  are  the  stars — that  is  the  heaven  which  is  commonly  spoken 
of  as  the  ether,  of  which  this  is  but  the  sediment  collecting  in 
the  hollows  of  the  earth.  But  we  who  live  in  these  hollows  are 
deceived  into  the  notion  that  we  are  dwelling  above  on  the  sur- 
face of  the  earth ;  which  is  just  as  if  a  creature  who  was  at  the 
bottom  of  the  sea  were  to  fancy  that  he  was  on  the  surface  of 
the  water,  and  that  the  sea  was  the  heaven  through  which  he 
saw  the  sun  and  the  other  stars — he  having  never  come  to  the 
surface  by  reason  of  his  feebleness  and  sluggishness,  and  hav- 
(ng  never  lifted  up  his  head  and  seen,  nor  ever  heard  from  one 
who  had  seen,  this  other  region  which  is  so  much  purer  and 
fairer  than  his  own.  Now  this  is  exactly  our  case:  for  we  are 
dwelling  in  a  hollow  of  the  earth,  and  fancy  that  we  are  on  the 
surface ;  and  the  air  we  call  the  heaven,  and  in  this  we  imagine 
that  the  stars  move.  But  this  is  also  owing  to  our  feebleness 
and  sluggishness,  which  prevent  our  reaching  the  surface  of  the 
flir :  for  if  any  man  could  arrive  at  the  exterior  limit,  or  take  the 
wings  of  a  bird  and  fly  upward,  like  a  fish  who  puts  his  head  out 
and  sees  this  world,  he  would  see  a  world  beyond ;  and,  if  the 
nature  of  man  could  sustain  the  sight,  he  would  acknowledge 
tTiat  this  was  the  place  of  the  true  heaven  and  the  true  light  and 
the  true  stars.     For  this  earth,  and  the  stones,  and  the  entire 


PHyEDO 


135 


region  which  surrounds  us  are  spoilt  and  corroded,  like  the 
things  in  the  sea  which  are  corroded  by  the  brine ;  for  in  the  sea 
too  there  is  hardly  any  noble  or  perfect  growth,  but  clefts  only, 
and  sand,  and  an  endless  slough  of  mud :  and  even  the  shore  is 
not  to  be  compared  to  the  fairer  sights  of  this  world.  And 
greater  far  is  the  superiority  of  the  other.  Now  of  that  upper 
earth  which  is  under  the  heaven,  I  can  tell  you  a  charming  tale, 
Simmias,  which  is  well  worth  hearing. 

And  we,  Socrates,  replied  Simmias,  shall  be  charmed  to  listen. 

The  tale,  my  friend,  he  said,  is  as  follows.  In  the  first  place, 
the  earth,  when  looked  at  from  above,  is  like  one  of  those  balls 
which  have  leather  coverings  in  twelve  pieces,  and  is  of  divers 
colors,  of  which  the  colors  which  painters  use  on  earth  are  only 
a  sample.  But  there  the  whole  earth  is  made  up  of  them,  and 
they  are  brighter  far  and  clearer  than  ours ;  there  is  a  purple  of 
wonderful  luster,  also  the  radiance  of  gold,  and  the  white  which 
is  in  the  earth  is  whiter  than  any  chalk  or  snow.  Of  these  and 
other  colors  the  earth  is  made  up,  and  they  are  more  in  number 
and  fairer  than  the  eye  of  man  has  ever  seen  ;  and  the  very  hol- 
lows (of  which  I  was  speaking)  filled  with  air  and  water  are  seen 
like  light  flashing  amid  the  other  colors,  and  have  a  color  of 
their  own,  which  gives  a  sort  of  unity  to  the  variety  of  earth. 
And  in  this  fair  region  everything  that  grows — trees,  and  flow- 
ers, and  fruits — is  in  a  like  degree  fairer  than  any  here ;  and 
there  are  hills,  and  stones  in  them  in  a  like  degree  smoother, 
and  more  transparent,  and  fairer  in  color  than  our  highly  valued 
emeralds  and  sardonyxes  and  jaspers,  and  other  gems,  which 
are  but  minute  fragments  of  them :  for  there  all  the  stones  are 
like  our  precious  stones,  and  fairer  still.  The  reason  of  this  is 
that  they  are  pure,  and  not,  like  our  precious  stones,  infected  or 
corroded  by  the  corrupt  briny  elements  which  coagulate  among 
us,  and  which  breed  foulness  and  disease  both  in  earth  and 
stones,  as  well  as  in  animals  and  plants.  They  are  the  jewels 
of  the  upper  earth,  which  also  shines  with  gold  and  silver  and 
the  like,  and  they  are  visible  to  sight  and  large  and  abundant 
and  found  in  every  region  of  the  earth,  and  blessed  is  he  who 
sees  them.  And  upon  the  earth  are  animals  and  men,  some  in 
a  middle  region,  others  dwelling  about  the  air  as  we  dwell 
about  the  sea  ;  others  in  islands  which  the  air  flows  round,  near 
the  continent:  and  in  a  word,  the  air  is  used  by  them  as  the 
water  and  the  sea  are  by  us,  and  the  ether  is  to  them  what  the 


136  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

air  to  us.  Moreover,  the  temperament  of  their  seasons  is  such 
that  they  have  no  disease,  and  live  much  longer  than  we  do,  and 
have  sight  and  hearing  and  smell,  and  all  the  other  senses,  in  far 
greater  perfection,  in  the  same  degree  that  air  is  purer  than 
water  or  the  ether  than  air.  Also  they  have  temples  and  sacred 
places  in  which  the  gods  really  dwell,  and  they  hear  their  voices 
and  receive  their  answers,  and  are  conscious  of  them  and  hold 
converse  with  them,  and  they  see  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars  as 
they  really  are,  and  their  other  blessedness  is  of  a  piece  with  this. 
Such  is  the  nature  of  the  whole  earth,  and  of  the  things  which 
are  around  the  earth ;  and  there  are  divers  regions  in  the  hol- 
lows on  the  face  of  the  globe  everywhere,  some  of  them  deeper 
and  also  wider  than  that  which  we  inhabit,  others  deeper  and 
with  a  narrower  opening  than  ours,  and  some  are  shallower  and 
wider ;  all  have  numerous  perforations,  and  passages  broad  and 
narrow  in  the  interior  of  the  earth,  conecting  them  with  one 
another ;  and  there  flows  into  and  out  of  them,  as  into  basins,  a 
vast  tide  of  water,  and  huge  subterranean  streams  of  perennial 
rivers,  and  springs  hot  and  cold,  and  a  great  fire,  and  great 
rivers  of  fire,  and  streams  of  liquid  mud,  thin  or  thick  (like  the 
rivers  of  mud  in  Sicily,  and  the  lava-streams  which  follow  them), 
and  the  regions  about  which  they  happen  to  flow  are  filled  up 
with  them.  And  there  is  a  sort  of  swing  in  the  interior  of  the 
earth  which  moves  all  this  up  and  down.  Now  the  swing  is  in 
this  wise :  There  is  a  chasm  which  is  the  vastest  of  them  all,  and 
pierces  right  through  the  whole  earth ;  this  is  that  which  Homer 
describes  in  the  words — 

"  Far  off,  where  is  the  inmost  depth  beneath  the  earth  " ; 

and  which  he  in  other  places,  and  many  other  poets,  have  called 
Tartarus.  And  the  swing  is  caused  by  the  streams  flowing  into 
and  out  of  this  chasm,  and  they  each  have  the  nature  of  the  soil 
through  which  they  flow.  And  the  reason  why  the  streams  are 
always  flowing  in  and  out  is  that  the  watery  element  has  no  bed 
or  bottom,  and  is  surging  and  swinging  up  and  down,  and  the 
surrounding  wind  and  air  do  the  same ;  they  follow  the  water 
up  and  down,  hither  and  thither,  over  the  earth — ^just  as  in 
respiring  the  air  is  always  in  process  of  inhalation  and  exhala- 
tion ;  and  the  wind  swinging  with  the  water  in  and  out  produces 
fearful  and  irresistible  blasts :  when  the  waters  retire  with  a  rush 
into  the  lower  parts  of  the  earth,  as  they  are  called,  they  flow 


PH^DO  137 

through  the  earth  into  those  regions,  and  fill  them  up  as  with 
the  alternate  motion  of  a  pump,  and  then  when  they  leave  those 
regions  and  rush  back  hither,  they  again  fill  the  hollows  here, 
and  when  these  are  filled,  flow  through  subterranean  channels 
and  find  their  way  to  their  several  places,  forming  seas,  and 
lakes,  and  rivers,  and  springs.  Thence  they  again  enter  the 
earth,  some  of  them  making  a  long  circuit  into  many  lands, 
others  going  to  few  places  and  those  not  distant,  and  again  fall 
into  Tartarus,  some  at  a  point  a  good  deal  lower  than  that  at 
which  they  rose,  and  others  not  much  lower,  but  all  in  some  de- 
gree lower  than  the  point  of  issue.  And  some  burst  forth  again 
on  the  opposite  side,  and  some  on  the  same  side,  and  some  wind 
round  the  earth  with  one  or  many  folds,  like  the  coils  of  a  ser- 
pent, and  descend  as  far  as  they  can,  but  always  return  and  fall 
into  the  lake.  The  rivers  on  either  side  can  descend  only  to 
the  center  and  no  further,  for  to  the  rivers  on  both  sides  the 
opposite  side  is  a  precipice. 

Now  these  rivers  are  many,  and  mighty,  and  diverse,  and 
there  are  four  principal  ones,  of  which  the  greatest  and  outer- 
most is  that  called  Oceanus,  which  flows  round  the  earth  in  a 
circle;  and  in  the  opposite  direction  flows  Acheron,  which 
passes  under  the  earth  through  desert  places,  into  the  Acheru- 
sian  Lake :  this  is  the  lake  to  the  shores  of  which  the  souls  of 
the  many  go  when  they  are  dead,  and  after  waiting  an  appointed 
time,  which  is  to  some  a  longer  and  to  some  a  shorter  time,  they 
are  sent  back  again  to  be  born  as  animals.  The  third  river 
rises  between  the  two,  and  near  the  place  of  rising  pours  into 
a  vast  region  of  fire,  and  forms  a  lake  larger  than  the  Mediter- 
ranean Sea,  boiling  with  water  and  mud;  and  proceeding 
muddy  and  turbid,  and  winding  about  the  earth,  comes,  among 
other  places,  to  the  extremities  of  the  Acherusian  Lake,  but 
mingles  not  with  the  waters  of  the  lake,  and  after  making  many 
coils  about  the  earth  plunges  into  Tartarus  at  a  deeper  level. 
This  is  that  Pyriphlegethon,  as  the  stream  is  called,  which 
throws  up  jets  of  fire  in  all  sorts  of  places.  The  fourth  river 
goes  out  on  the  oposite  side,  and  falls  first  of  all  into  a  wild  and 
savage  region,  which  is  all  of  a  dark-blue  color,  like  lapis  lazuli ; 
and  this  is  that  river  which  is  called  the  Stygian  River,  and  falls 
into  and  forms  the  Lake  Styx,  and  after  falling  into  the  lake 
and  receiving  strange  powers  in  the  waters,  passes  under  the 
earth,  winding  round  in  the  opposite  direction  to  Pyriphlege- 


138  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

thon,  and  meeting  in  the  Acherusian  Lake  from  the  opposite 
side.  And  the  water  of  this  river  too  mingles  with  no  other, 
but  flows  round  in  a  circle  and  falls  into  Tartarus  over  against 
Pyriphlegethon ,  and  the  name  of  this  river,  as  the  poet  says,  is 
Cocytus. 

Such  is  the  nature  of  the  other  world;  and  when  the  dead 
arrive  at  the  place  to  which  the  genius  of  each  severally  conveys 
them,  first  of  all  they  have  sentence  passed  upon  them,  as  they 
have  lived  well  and  piously  or  not.  And  those  who  appear  to 
have  lived  neither  well  nor  ill,  go  to  the  river  Acheron,  and 
mount  such  conveyances  as  they  can  get,  and  are  carried  in 
them  to  the  lake,  and  there  they  dwell  and  are  purified  of  their 
evil  deeds,  and  suffer  the  penalty  of  the  wrongs  which  they 
have  done  to  others,  and  are  absolved,  and  receive  the  rewards 
of  their  good  deeds  according  to  their  desserts.  But  those  who 
appear  to  be  incurable  by  reason  of  the  greatness  of  their 
crimes — who  have  committed  many  and  terrible  deeds  of  sacri- 
lege, murders  foul  and  violent,  or  the  like — such  are  hurled  into 
Tartarus,  which  is  their  suitable  destiny,  and  they  never  come 
out.  Those  again  who  have  committed  crimes,  which,  al- 
though great,  are  not  unpardonable — who  in  a  moment  of 
anger,  for  example,  have  done  violence  to  a  father  or  a  mother, 
and  have  repented  for  the  remainder  of  their  lives,  or  who  have 
taken  the  life  of  another  under  the  like  extenuating  circum- 
stances— these  are  plunged  into  Tartarus,  the  pains  of  which 
they  are  compelled  to  undergo  for  a  year,  but  at  the  end  of  the 
year  the  wave  casts  them  forth — mere  homicides  by  way  of 
Cocytus,  parricides  and  matricides  by  Pyriphlegethon — and 
they  are  borne  to  the  Acherusian  Lake,  and  there  they  lift  up 
their  voices  and  call  upon  the  victims  whom  they  have  slain 
or  wronged,  to  have  pity  on  them,  and  to  receive  them,  and  to 
let  them  come  out  of  the  river  into  the  lake.  And  if  they  pre- 
vail, then  they  come  forth  and  cease  from  their  troubles ;  but  if 
not,  they  are  carried  back  again  into  Tartarus  and  from  thence 
into  the  rivers  unceasingly,  until  they  obtain  mercy  from  those 
whom  they  have  wronged :  for  that  is  the  sentence  inflicted  upon 
them  by  their  judges.  Those  also  who  are  remarkable  for  hav- 
ing led  holy  lives  are  released  from  this  earthly  prison,  and  go  to 
their  pure  home  which  is  above,  and  dwell  in  the  purer  earth  ; 
and  those  who  have  duly  purified  themselves  with  philosophy 
live  henceforth  altogether  without  the  body,  in  mansions  fairer 


PH^DO 


139 


far  than  these,  which  may  not  be  described,  and  of  which  the 
time  would  fail  me  to  tell. 

Wherefore,  Simmias,  seeing  all  these  things,  what  ought  not 
we  to  do  in  order  to  obtain  virtue  and  wisdom  in  this  life  ?  Fair 
is  the  prize,  and  the  hope  great. 

I  do  not  mean  to  affirm  that  the  description  which  I  have 
given  of  the  soul  and  her  mansions  is  exactly  true — a  man  of 
sense  ought  hardly  to  say  that.  But  I  do  say  that,  inasmuch 
ts  the  soul  is  shown  to  be  immortal,  he  may  venture  to  think, 
not  improperly  or  unworthily,  that  something  of  the  kind  is 
true.  The  venture  is  a  glorious  one,  and  he  ought  to  com- 
fort himself  with  words  like  these,  which  is  the  reason  why  I 
lengthen  out  the  tale.  Wherefore,  I  say,  let  a  man  be  of  good 
cheer  about  his  soul,  who  has  cast  away  the  pleasures  and  orna- 
ments of  the  body  as  alien  to  him,  and  rather  hurtful  in  their 
effects,  and  has  followed  after  the  pleasures  of  knowledge  in 
this  life ;  who  has  adorned  the  soul  in  her  own  proper  jewels, 
which  are  temperance,  and  justice,  and  courage,  and  nobility, 
and  truth — in  these  arrayed  she  is  ready  to  go  on  her  journey 
to  the  world  below,  when  her  time  comes.  You,  Simmias  and 
Cebes,  and  all  other  men,  will  depart  at  some  time  or  other. 
Me  already,  as  the  tragic  poet  would  say,  the  voice  of  fate  calls. 
Soon  I  must  drink  the  poison ;  and  I  think  that  I  had  better 
repair  to  the  bath  first,  in  order  that  the  women  may  not  have 
the  trouble  of  washing  my  body  after  I  am  dead. 

When  he  had  done  speaking,  Crito  said :  And  have  you  any 
commands  for  us,  Socrates — anything  to  say  about  your  chil- 
dren, or  any  other  matter  in  which  we  can  serve  you  ? 

Nothing  particular,  he  said :  only,  as  I  have  always  told  you, 
I  would  have  you  to  look  to  yourselves ;  that  is  a  service  which 
you  may  always  be  doing  to  me  and  mine  as  well  as  to  your- 
selves. And  you  need  not  make  professions  ;  for  if  you  take  no 
thought  for  yourselves,  and  walk  not  according  to  the  precepts 
which  I  have  given  you,  not  now  for  the  first  time,  the  warmth 
of  your  professions  will  be  of  no  avail. 

We  will  do  our  best,  said  Crito.  But  in  what  way  would  you 
have  us  bury  you  ? 

In  any  way  that  you  like ;  only  you  must  get  hold  of  me,  and 
take  care  that  I  do  not  walk  away  from  you.  Then  he  turned 
to  us,  and  added  with  a  smile :  I  cannot  make  Crito  believe  that 
I  am  the  same  Socrates  who  have  been  talking  and  conducting 


140  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

the  argument;  he  fancies  that  I  am  the  other  Socrates  whom 
he  will  soon  see,  a  dead  body — and  he  asks.  How  shall  he  bury 
me  ?  And  though  I  have  spoken  many  words  in  the  endeavor 
to  show  that  when  I  have  drunk  the  poison  I  shall  leave  you 
and  go  to  the  joys  of  the  blessed — these  words  of  mine,  with 
which  I  comforted  you  and  myself,  have  had,  as  I  perceive,  no 
effect  upon  Crito.  And  therefore  I  want  you  to  be  surety  for 
me  now,  as  he  was  surety  for  me  at  the  trial :  but  let  the  promise 
be  of  another  sort ;  for  he  was  my  surety  to  the  judges  that  I 
would  remain,  but  you  must  be  my  surety  to  him  that  I  shall 
not  remain,  but  go  away  and  depart;  and  then  he  will  suffer 
less  at  my  death,  and  not  be  grieved  when  he  sees  my  body  be- 
ing burned  or  buried.  I  would  not  have  him  sorrow  at  my 
hard  lot,  or  say  at  the  burial,  Thus  we  lay  out  Socrates,  or,  Thus 
we  follow  him  to  the  grave  or  bury  him ;  for  false  words  are  not 
only  evil  in  themselves,  but  they  infect  the  soul  with  evil.  Be 
of  good  cheer,  then,  my  dear  Crito,  and  say  that  you  are  bury- 
ing my  body  only,  and  do  with  that  as  is  usual,  and  as  you  think 
best. 

When  he  had  spoken  these  words,  he  arose  and  went  into 
the  bath  chamber  with  Crito,  who  bade  us  wait ;  and  we  waited, 
talking  and  thinking  of  the  subject  of  discourse,  and  also  of  the 
greatness  of  our  sorrow ;  he  was  like  a  father  of  whom  we  were 
being  bereaved,  and  we  were  about  to  pass  the  rest  of  our  lives 
as  orphans.  When  he  had  taken  the  bath  his  children  were 
brought  to  him — (he  had  two  young  sons  and  an  elder  one) ; 
and  the  women  of  his  family  also  came,  and  he  talked  to  them 
and  gave  them  a  few  directions  in  the  presence  of  Crito ;  and  he 
then  dismissed  them  and  returned  to  us. 

Now  the  hour  of  sunset  was  near,  for  a  good  deal  of  time  had 
passed  while  he  was  within.  When  he  came  out,  he  sat  down 
with  us  again  after  his  bath,  but  not  much  was  said.  Soon  the 
jailer,  who  was  the  servant  of  the  Eleven,  entered  and  stood  by 
him,  saying :  To  you,  Socrates,  whom  I  know  to  be  the  noblest 
and  gentlest  and  best  of  all  who  ever  came  to  this  place,  I  will 
not  impute  the  angry  feelings  of  other  men,  who  rage  and  swear 
at  me  when,  in  obedience  to  the  authorities,  I  bid  them  drink 
the  poison — indeed  I  am  sure  that  you  will  not  be  angry  with 
me ;  for  others,  as  you  are  aware,  and  not  I,  are  the  guilty  cause. 
And  so  fare  you  well,  and  try  to  bear  lightly  what  must  needs 
be ;  you  know  my  errand.  Then  bursting  into  tears  he  turned 
away  and  went  out. 


PHyEDO  141 

Socrates  looked  at  him  and  said :  I  return  your  good  wishes, 
and  will  do  as  you  bid.  Then,  turning  to  us,  he  said.  How 
charming  the  man  is :  since  I  have  been  in  prison  he  has  always 
been  coming  to  see  me,  and  at  times  he  would  talk  to  me,  and 
was  as  good  as  could  be  to  me,  and  now  see  how  generously  he 
sorrows  for  me.  But  we  must  do  as  he  says,  Crito ;  let  the  cup 
be  brought,  if  the  poison  is  prepared :  if  not,  let  the  attendant 
prepare  some. 

Yet,  said  Crito,  the  sun  is  still  upon  the  hilltops,  and  many 
a  one  has  taken  the  draught  late,  and  after  the  announcement 
has  been  made  to  him,  he  has  eaten  and  drunk,  and  indulged  in 
sensual  delights ;  do  not  hasten,  then,  there  is  still  time. 

Socrates  said :  Yes,  Crito,  and  they  of  whom  you  speak  are 
right  in  doing  thus,  for  they  think  that  they  will  gain  by  the 
delay ;  but  I  am  right  in  not  doing  thus,  for  I  do  not  think  that 
I  should  gain  anything  by  drinking  the  poison  a  little  later ;  I 
should  be  sparing  and  saving  a  life  which  is  already  gone :  I 
could  only  laugh  at  myself  for  this.  Please  then  to  do  as  I  say, 
and  not  to  refuse  me. 

Crito,  when  he  heard  this,  made  a  sign  to  the  servant ;  and 
the  servant  went  in,  and  remained  for  some  time,  and  then  re- 
turned with  the  jailer  carrying  the  cup  of  poison.  Socrates 
said :  You,  my  good  friend,  who  are  experienced  in  these  mat- 
ters, shall  give  me  directions  how  I  am  to  proceed.  The  man 
answered:  You  have  only  to  walk  about  until  your  legs  are 
heavy,  and  then  to  lie  down,  and  the  poison  will  act.  At  the 
same  time  he  handed  the  cup  to  Socrates,  who  in  the  easiest 
and  gentlest  manner,  without  the  least  fear  or  change  of  color 
or  feature,  looking  at  the  man  with  all  his  eyes,  Echecrates,  as 
his  maner  was,  took  the  cup  and  said :  What  do  you  say  about 
making  a  libation  out  of  this  cup  to  any  god  ?  May  I,  or  not  ? 
The  man  answered :  We  only  prepare,  Socrates,  just  so  much 
as  we  deem  enough.  I  understand,  he  said:  yet  I  may  and 
must  pray  to  the  gods  to  prosper  my  journey  from  this  to  that 
other  world — may  this,  then,  which  is  my  prayer,  be  granted 
to  me.  Then  holding  the  cup  to  his  lips,  quite  readily  and 
cheerfully  he  drank  oflf  the  poison.  And  hitherto  most  of  us 
had  been  able  to  control  our  sorrow;  but  now  when  we  saw 
him  drinking,  and  saw  too  that  he  had  finished  the  draught,  we 
could  no  longer  forbear,  and  in  spite  of  myself  my  own  tears 
were  flowing  fast ;  so  that  I  covered  my  face  and  wept  over  my- 


142  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

self,  for  certainly  I  was  not  weeping  over  him,  but  at  the 
thought  of  my  own  calamity  in  having  lost  such  a  companion. 
Nor  was  I  the  first,  for  Crito,  when  he  found  himself  unable  to 
restrain  his  tears,  had  got  up  and  moved  away,  and  I  followed ; 
and  at  that  moment,  Apollodorus,  who  had  been  weeping  all 
the  time,  broke  out  into  a  loud  cry  which  made  cowards  of  us 
all.  Socrates  alone  retained  his  calmness :  What  is  this  strange 
outcry  ?  he  said.  I  sent  away  the  women  mainly  in  order  that 
they  might  not  offend  in  this  way,  for  I  have  heard  that  a  man 
should  die  in  peace.     Be  quiet,  then,  and  have  patience. 

When  we  heard  that,  we  were  ashamed,  and  refrained  our 
tears ;  and  he  walked  about  until,  as  he  said,  his  legs  began  to 
fail,  and  then  he  lay  on  his  back,  according  to  the  directions, 
and  the  man  who  gave  him  the  poison  now  and  then  looked  at 
his  feet  and  legs ;  and  after  a  while  he  pressed  his  foot  hard 
and  asked  him  if  he  could  feel ;  and  he  said,  no ;  and  then  his 
leg,  and  so  upwards  and  upwards,  and  showed  us  that  he  was 
cold  and  stiff.  And  he  felt  them  himself,  and  said :  When  the 
poison  reaches  the  heart,  that  will  be  the  end.  He  was  begin- 
ning to  grow  cold  about  the  groin,  when  he  uncovered  his 
face,  for  he  had  covered  himself  up,  and  said  (they  were  his  last 
words) — he  said:  Crito,  I  owe  a  cock  to  Asclepius;  will  you 
remember  to  pay  the  debt  ?  The  debt  shall  be  paid,  said  Crito ; 
is  there  anything  else  ?  There  was  no  answer  to  this  question ; 
but  in  a  minute  or  two  a  movement  was  heard,  and  the  attend- 
ants uncovered  him;  his  eyes  were  set,  and  Crito  closed  his 
eyes  and  mouth. 

Such  was  the  end,  Echecrates,  of  our  friend,  whom  I  may 
truly  call  the  wisest,  and  justest,  and  best  of  all  the  men  whom  I 
have  ever  known. 


CHOICE  EXAMPLES  OF  CLASSIC  ARCHITECrURE. 


THE  PARTHENON  AT  ATHENS. 

Photogravure  from  a  photograph. 

The  Parthenon,  the  temple  of  Minerva,  at'  Athens,  is  usually  regarded  as  tWe 
most  perfect  specimen  of  Greek  architecture.  Many  of  the  sculptures  have  been 
transported  to  England,  and  are  now  in  the  British  Museum,  where  they  form,  with 
some  other  relics  of  antiquity,  the  collection  known  as  the  Efffin  Afartlrs. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  PROTAGORAS 

THE  "  Protagoras,"  like  several  of  the  dialogues  of  Plato, 
is  put  into  the  mouth  of  Socrates,  who  describes  a  con- 
versation which  had  taken  place  between  himself  and 
the  great  Sophist  at  the  house  of  Callias — "  the  man  who  had 
spent  more  upon  the  Sophists  than  all  the  rest  of  the  world," 
and  in  which  the  learned  Hippias  and  the  grammarian  Prodicus 
had  also  shared,  as  well  as  Alcibiades  and  Critias,  both  of  whom 
said  a  few  words — in  the  presence  of  a  distinguished  company 
consisting  of  disciples  of  Protagoras  and  of  leading  Athenians 
belonging  to  the  Socratic  circle.  The  dialogue  commences 
with  a  request  on  the  part  of  Hippocrates  that  Socrates  would 
introduce  him  to  the  celebrated  teacher.  He  has  come  before 
the  dawn  had  risen  to  testify  his  zeal.  Socrates  moderates  his 
excitement  and  advises  him  to  find  out  "  what  Protagoras  will 
make  of  him,"  before  he  becomes  his  pupil. 

They  go  together  to  the  house  of  Callias ;  and  Socrates,  after 
explaining  the  purpose  of  their  visit  to  Protagoras,  asks  the 
question  "  What  he  will  make  of  Hippocrates  ?  "  Protagoras 
answers,  "  That  he  will  make  him  a  better  and  a  wiser  man." 
"  But  in  what  will  he  be  better  ?  " — Socrates  desires  to  have  a 
more  precise  answer.  Protagoras  replies,  "  That  he  will  teach 
him  prudence  in  affairs  private  and  public ;  in  short,  the  science 
or  knowledge  of  human  life." 

This,  as  Socrates  admits,  is  a  noble  profession:  but  he  is 
doubtful — or  rather  would  have  been,  if  Protagoras  had  not 
assured  him  of  it — whether  such  knowledge  can  be  taught.  And 
this  for  two  reasons:  (i)  Because  the  Athenian  people,  who 
recognize  in  their  assemblies  the  distinction  between  the  skilled 
and  the  unskilled,  do  not  recognize  any  distinction  between  the 
trained  politician  and  the  untrained  ;  (2)  Because  the  wisest  and 
best  Athenian  citizens  do  not  teach  their  sons  political  virtue. 
Will  Protagoras  explain  this  anomaly  to  him  ? 

Protagoras  explains  his  views  in  the  form  of  an  apologue,  in 

143 


144  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

which,  after  Prometheus  had  given  men  the  arts,  Zeus  is  repre- 
sented as  sending  Hermes  to  them,  bearing  with  him  Justice 
and  Reverence.  These  are  not,  Hke  the  arts,  to  be  imparted  to 
a  few  only,  but  all  men  are  to  be  partakers  of  them.  Therefore 
the  Athenian  people  are  right  in  distinguishing  between  the 
skilled  and  unskilled  in  the  arts,  and  not  between  skilled  and  un- 
skilled politicians,  (i)  For  all  men  have  the  political  virtues  to 
a  certain  degree,  and  whether  they  have  them  or  not  are  obliged 
to  say  that  they  have  them.  A  man  would  be  thought  a  mad- 
man who  professed  an  art  which  he  did  not  know;  and  he 
would  be  equally  thought  a  madman  if  he  did  not  profess  a 
virtue  which  he  had  not.  (2)  And  that  the  political  virtues  can 
be  taught  and  acquired,  in  the  opinion  of  the  Athenians,  is 
proved  by  the  fact  that  they  punish  evil-doers,  with  a  view  to 
prevention,  of  course — mere  retribution  is  for  beasts,  and  not 
for  men.  (3)  Another  proof  of  this  is  the  education  of  youth, 
which  begins  almost  as  soon  as  they  can  speak,  and  is  continued 
by  the  State  when  they  pass  out  of  the  control  of  their  parents. 
(4)  Nor  is  there  any  inconsistency  in  wise  and  good  fathers  hav- 
ing foolish  and  worthless  sons ;  for  (a)  in  the  first  place  the 
young  do  not  learn  of  their  fathers  only,  but  of  all  the  citizens ; 
and  {b)  this  is  partly  a  matter  of  chance  and  of  natural  gifts :  the 
sons  of  a  great  statesman  are  not  necessarily  great  statesmen 
any  more  than  the  sons  of  a  good  artist  are  necessarily  good 
artists.  (5)  The  error  of  Socrates  lies  in  supposing  that  there 
are  no. teachers,  when  all  men  are  teachers.  Only  a  few,  like 
Protagoras  himself,  are  somewhat  better  than  others. 

Socrates  is  highly  delighted,  and  quite  satisfied  with  this  ex- 
planation of  Protagoras.  But  he  has  still  a  doubt  lingering  in 
his  mind.  Protagoras  has  spoken  of  the  virtues :  are  they  many, 
or  one  ?  are  they  parts  of  a  whole,  or  different  names  of  the  same 
thing  ?  Protagoras  replies  that  they  are  parts,  like  the  parts  of  a 
face,  which  have  their  several  functions,  and  no  one  part  is  like 
any  other  part.  This  admission,  which  has  been  somewhat 
hastily  made,  is  now  taken  up  and  cross-examined  by  Socra- 
tes : — 

"  Is  justice  just,  and  is  holiness  holy?  And  are  justice  and 
holiness  opposed  to  one  another?  " — "  Then  justice  is  unholy." 
Protagoras  would  rather  say  that  justice  is  different  from  holi- 
ness, and  yet  in  a  certain  point  of  view  nearly  the  same.  He 
does  not,  however,  escape  in  this  way  from  th^  cunning  gf 


INTRODUCTION  TO  PROTAGORAS  145 

Socrates,  who  entangles  him  into  an  admission  that  everything 
has  but  one  opposite.  Folly,  for  example,  is  opposed  to  wis- 
dom ;  and  folly  is  also  opposed  to  temperance ;  and  therefore 
temperance  and  wisdom  are  the  same.  And  holiness  has  been 
already  admitted  to  be  nearly  the  same  as  justice.  Temperance, 
therefore,  has  now  to  be  compared  with  justice. 

Protagoras,  whose  temper  begins  to  get  a  little  ruffled  at  the 
process  to  which  he  has  been  subjected,  is  aware  that  he  will 
soon  be  compelled  by  the  dialectics  of  Socrates  to  admit  that  the 
temperate  is  the  just.  He  therefore  defends  himself  with  his 
favorite  weapon ;  that  is  to  say,  he  makes  a  long  speech  not 
much  to  the  point,  which  elicits  the  applause  of  the  audience. 

Here  occurs  a  sort  of  interlude,  which  commences  with  a 
declaration  on  the  part  of  Socrates  that  he  cannot  follow  a  long 
speech,  and  therefore  he  must  beg  Protagoras  to  speak  shorter. 
As  Protagoras  declines  to  accommodate  him,  he  rises  to  depart, 
but  is  detained  by  Callias,  who  thinks  him  unreasonable  in  not 
allowing  Protagoras  the  liberty  which  he  takes  himself  of 
speaking  as  he  likes.  But  Alcibiades  answers  that  the  two  cases 
are  not  parallel.  For  Socrates  admits  his  inability  to  speak 
long ;  will  Protagoras  in  like  manner  acknowledge  his  inability 
to  speak  short? 

Counsels  of  moderation  are  urged,  first  in  a  few  words  by 
Critias,  and  then  by  Prodicus  in  balanced  and  sententious  lan- 
guage :  and  Hippias  proposes  an  umpire.  But  who  is  to  be 
the  umpire  ?  rejoins  Socrates ;  he  would  rather  suggest  as  a 
compromise  that  Protagoras  shall  ask,  and  he  will  answer.  To 
this  Protagoras  yields  a  reluctant  assent. 

Protagoras  selects  as  the  thesis  of  his  questions  a  poem  of 
Simonides  of  Ceos,  in  which  he  professes  to  find  a  contradic- 
tion.   First  the  poet  says — 

"  Hard  it  is  to  become  good,** 

and  then  reproaches  Pittacus  for  having  said,  "  Hard  is  it  to  be 
good."  How  is  this  to  be  reconciled  ?  Socrates,  who  is  famil- 
iar with  the  poem,  is  embarrassed  at  first,  and  invokes  the  aid 
of  Prodicus  the  Cean,  who  must  come  to  the  help  of  his  coun- 
tryman, but  apparently  only  with  the  intention  of  flattering  him 
into  absurdities.  First  a  distinction  is  drawn  between  {elvai) 
"  to  be,"  and  {yeviarOai)  "  to  become  " :  to  become  good  is 
difficult ;  to  be  good  is  easy.  Then  the  word  "  difficult "  or 
10 


146  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

"  hard  "  is  explained  to  mean  "  evil  "  in  the  Cean  dialect.  To 
all  this  Prodicus  assents ;  but  when  Protagoras  reclaims,  Socra- 
tes slyly  withdraws  Prodicus  from  the  fray,  under  the  pretence 
that  his  assent  was  only  intended  to  test  the  wits  of  his  ad- 
versary. He  then  proceeds  to  give  another  and  more  elaborate 
explanation  of  the  whole  passage.  The  explanation  is  as  fol- 
lows : — 

The  Lacedaemonians  are  great  philosophers  (although  this  is 
a  fact  which  is  not  generally  known) ;  and  the  soul  of  their 
philosophy  is  brevity,  which  was  also  the  style  of  primitive  an- 
tiquity and  of  the  seven  sages.  Now  Pittacus  had  a  saying, 
"  Hard  is  it  to  be  good  " :  Simonides  was  jealous  of  the  fame 
of  this  saying,  and  wrote  a  poem  which  was  designed  to  contro- 
vert it.  No,  says  he,  Pittacus ;  not  "  hard  to  be  good,"  but 
"  hard  to  become  good."  Socrates  proceeds  to  argue  in  a 
highly  impressive  manner  that  the  whole  composition  is  in- 
tended as  an  attack  upon  Pittacus.  This,  though  manifestly 
absurd,  is  accepted  by  the  company,  and  meets  with  the  special 
approval  of  Hippias,  who  has  however  a  favorite  interpretation 
of  his  own,  which  he  is  requested  by  Alcibiades  to  defer. 

The  argument  is  now  resumed,  not  without  some  disdainful 
remarks  of  Socrates  on  the  practice  of  introducing  the  poets, 
who  ought  not  to  be  allowed,  any  more  than  flute  girls,  to  come 
into  good  society.  Men's  own  thoughts  should  supply  them 
with  the  materials  for  discussion.  A  few  soothing  flatteries 
are  addressed  to  Protagoras  by  Callias  and  Socrates,  and  then 
the  old  question  is  repeated,  "  Whether  the  virtues  are  one  or 
many  ?  "  To  which  Protagoras  is  now  disposed  to  reply  that 
four  out  of  the  five  virtues  are  in  some  degree  similar ;  but  he 
still  contends  that  the  fifth,  courage,  is  wholly  dissimilar.  Soc- 
rates proceeds  to  undermine  the  last  stronghold  of  the  ad- 
versary, first  obtaining  from  him  the  admission  that  all  virtue 
is  in  the  highest  degree  good : — 

The  courageous  are  the  confident;  and  the  confident  are 
those  who  know  their  business  or  profession :  those  who  have 
no  such  knowledge  and  are  still  confident  are  madmen.  This  is 
admitted.  Then,  says  Socrates,  courage  is  knowledge — an  in- 
ference which  Protagoras  evades  by  drawing  a  futile  distinction 
between  the  courageous  and  the  confident  in  a  fluent  speech. 

Socrates  renews  the  attack  from  another  side :  he  would  like 
to  know  whether  pleasure  is  not  the  only  good,  and  pain  the 


INTRODUCTION  TO  PROTAGORAS 


147 


only  evil  ?  Protagoras  seems  to  doubt  the  morality  or  propriety 
of  assenting  to  this ;  he  would  rather  say  that  "  some  pleasures 
are  good,  some  pains  are  evil,"  which  is  also  the  opinion  of  the 
generality  of  mankind.  What  does  he  think  of  knowledge? 
does  he  agree  with  the  common  opinion  about  this  also,  that 
knowledge  is  overpowered  by  passion?  or  does  he  hold  that 
knwledge  is  power  ?  Protagoras  agrees  that  knowledge  is  cer- 
tainly a  governing  power. 

This,  however,  is  not  the  doctrine  of  men  in  general,  who 
maintain  that  many  who  know  what  is  best,  act  contrary  to  their 
knowledge  under  the  influence  of  pleasure.  But  this  opposi- 
tion of  good  and  evil  is  really  the  opposition  of  a  greater  or 
lesser  amount  of  pleasure.  Pleasures  are  evils  because  they  end 
in  pain,  and  pains  are  good  because  they  end  in  pleasures.  Thus 
pleasure  is  seen  to  be  the  only  good ;  and  the  only  evil  is  the 
preference  of  the  lesser  pleasure  to  the  greater.  But  then  comes 
in  the  illusion  of  distance.  Some  art  of  mensuration  is  re- 
quired in  order  to  show  us  pleasures  and  pains  in  their  true 
proportion.  This  art  of  mensuration  is  a  kind  of  knowledge, 
and  knowledge  is  thus  proved  once  more  to  be  the  governing 
principle  of  human  life,  and  ignorance  the  origin  of  all  evil :  for 
no  one  prefers  the  less  pleasure  to  the  greater,  or  the  greater 
pain  to  the  less,  except  from  ignorance.  The  argument  is 
drawn  out  in  an  imaginary  "  dialogue  within  a  dialogue,"  con- 
ducted by  Socrates  and  Protagoras  on  the  one  part,  and  the 
rest  of  the  world  on  the  other.  Hippias  and  Prodicus,  as  well 
as  Protagoras,  admit  the  soundness  of  the  conclusion. 

Socrates  then  applies  this  new  conclusion  to  the  case  of  cour- 
age— the  only  virtue  which  still  holds  out  against  the  assaults  of 
the  Socratic  dialectic.  No  one  chooses  the  evil  or  refuses  the 
good  except  through  ignorance.  This  explains  why  cowards  re- 
fuse to  go  to  war :  because  they  form  a  wrong  estimate  of  good, 
and  honor,  and  pleasure.  And  why  are  the  courageous  willing 
to  go  to  war  ? — because  they  form  a  right  estimate  of  pleasures 
and  pains,  of  things  terrible  and  not  terrible.  Courage  then  is 
knowledge,  and  cowardice  is  ignorance.  And  the  five  virtues, 
which  were  originally  maintained  to  have  five  different  natures, 
after  having  been  easily  reduced  to  two  only,  are  at  last  resolved 
in  one.  The  assent  of  Protagoras  to  this  last  position  is  ex- 
tracted with  great  difficulty. 

Socrates  concludes  by  professing  his  disinterested  love  of  the 


148  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

truth,  and  remarks  on  the  singular  manner  in  which  he  and  his 
adversary  had  changed  sides.  Protagoras  began  by  asserting, 
and  Socrates  by  denying,  the  teachableness  of  virtue,  and  now 
the  latter  ends  by  affirming  that  virtue  is  knowledge,  which  is 
the  most  teachable  of  all  things,  while  Protagoras  has  been 
striving  to  show  that  virtue  is  not  knowledge,  and  this  is  almost 
equivalent  to  saying  that  virtue  cannot  be  taught.  He  is  not 
satisfied  with  the  result,  and  would  like  to  renew  the  inquiry 
with  the  help  of  Protagoras  in  a  different  order,  asking  (i)  What 
virtue  is,  and  (2)  Whether  virtue  can  be  taught.  Protagoras 
declines  this  oflfer,  but  commends  Socrates's  earnestness  and 
mode  of  discussion. 

The  "  Protagoras  "  is  often  supposed  to  be  full  of  difficulties. 
These  are  partly  imaginary  and  partly  real.  The  imaginary 
ones  are :  (i)  Chronological — which  were  pointed  out  in  ancient 
times  by  Athenaeus,  and  are  noticed  by  Schleiermacher  and 
others,  and  relate  to  the  impossibility  of  all  the  persons  in  the 
dialogue  meeting  at  any  one  time,  whether  in  the  year  425  B.C. 
or  in  any  other.  But  Plato,  like  other  writers  of  fiction,  aims 
only  at  the  probable,  and  has  shown  in  other  dialogues  an  ex- 
treme disregard  of  the  historical  accuracy  which  is  sometimes 
demanded  of  him.  (2)  The  exact  place  of  the  "  Protagoras  " 
among  the  dialogues,  and  the  date  of  composition,  have  also 
been  much  disputed.  But  there  are  no  criteria  which  aflford 
any  real  grounds  for  determining  the  date  of  composition  ;  and 
the  affinities  of  the  dialogues,  when  they  are  not  indicated  by 
Plato  himself,  must  always  to  some  extent  remain  uncertain. 
(3)  There  is  another  class  of  difficulties,  which  may  be  ascribed 
to  preconceived  notions  of  commentators,  who  imagine  that 
Protagoras  the  Sophist  ought  always  to  be  in  the  wrong,  and 
his  adversary  Socrates  in  the  right ;  or  that  in  this  or  that  pas- 
sage— e.g.  in  the  explanation  of  good  as  pleasure — Plato  is 
inconsistent  with  himself:  or  that  the  dialogue  fails  in  unity, 
and  has  not  a  proper  "  beginning,  middle,  and  ending."  They 
seem  to  forget  that  Plato  is  a  dramatic  writer  who  throws  his 
thoughts  into  both  sides  of  the  argument,  and  certainly  does 
not  aim  at  any  unity  which  is  inconsistent  with  freedom,  and 
with  a  natural  or  even  wild  manner  of  treating  his  subject ;  also 
that  his  mode  of  revealing  the  truth  is  by  lights  and  shadows, 
and  far  oflF  and  opposing  points  of  view,  and  not  by  dogmatic 
statements  or  definite  results. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  PROTAGORAS  149 

The  real  difficulties  arise  out  of  the  extreme  subtlety  of  the 
work,  which,  as  Socrates  says  of  the  poem  of  Simonides,  is  a 
most  perfect  piece  of  art.  There  are  dramatic  contrasts  and 
interests,  threads  of  philosophy  broken  and  resumed,  satirical 
reflections  on  mankind,  veils  thrown  over  truths  which  are 
lightly  suggested,  and  all  woven  together  in  a  single  design, 
and  moving  towards  one  end. 

In  the  introductory  scene  Plato  raises  the  expectation  that  a 
"  great  personage  "  is  about  to  appear  on  the  stage  (perhaps 
with  a  further  view  of  showing  that  he  is  destined  to  be  over- 
thrown by  a  greater  still,  who  makes  no  pretensions).  Before 
introducing  Hippocrates  to  him,  Socrates  thinks  proper  to  warn 
the  youth  of  the  dangers  of  "  influence,"  of  the  invidious  nature 
of  which  Protagoras  is  also  sensible.  Hippocrates  readily 
adopts  the  suggestion  of  Socrates  that  he  shall  learn  the  ac- 
complishments which  befit  an  Athenian  gentleman  of  Protago- 
ras, and  let  alone  his  "  sophistry."  There  is  nothing  however 
in  the  introduction  which  leads  to  the  inference  that  Plato  in- 
tended to  blacken  the  character  of  the  Sophists ;  he  only  makes 
a  little  merry  at  their  expense. 

The  "  great  personage  "  is  somewhat  ostentatious,  but  frank 
and  honest.  He  is  introduced  on  a  stage  which  is  worthy  of  him 
— at  the  house  of  the  rich  Callias,  in  which  are  congregated  the 
noblest  and  wisest  of  the  Athenians.  He  considers  openness  to 
be  the  best  policy,  and^  particularly  mentions  his  own  liberal 
mode  of  dealing  with  his  pupils,  as  if  in  answer  to  the  favorite 
accusation  of  the  Sophists  that  they  received  pay.  He  is  re- 
markable for  the  good  temper  which  he  exhibits  throughout  the 
discussion  under  the  trying  and  often  sophistical  cross-exam- 
ination of  Socrates.  Although  once  or  twice  ruffled,  and  reluc- 
tant to  continue  the  discussion,  he  parts  company  on  perfectly 
good  terms,  and  appears  to  be,  as  he  says  of  himself,  the  "  least 
jealous  of  mankind." 

Nor  is  there  anything  in  the  sentiments  of  Protagoras  which 
impairs  this  pleasing  impression  of  the  grave  and  weighty  old 
man.  His  real  defect  is  that  he  is  inferior  to  Socrates  in  dialec- 
tics. The  opposition  between  him  and  Socrates  is  not  the  op- 
position of  good  and  bad,  true  and  false,  but  of  the  old  art  of 
rhetoric  and  the  new  science  of  interrogation  and  argument; 
also  of  the  irony  of  Socrates  and  the  self-assertion  of  the  Soph- 
ists.   There  is  quite  as  much  truth  on  the  side  of  Protagoras  as 


15©  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

of  Socrates ;  but  the  truth  of  Protagoras  is  based  on  common- 
sense  and  common  maxims  of  morahty,  while  that  of  Socrates  is 
paradoxical  or  transcendental,  and  though  full  of  meaning  and 
insight,  hardly  intelligible  to  the  rest  of  mankind. 

For  example :  (i)  one  of  the  noblest  statements  to  be  found 
in  antiquity  about  the  preventive  nature  of  punishment  is  put 
into  the  mouth  of  Protagoras ;  (2)  he  is  clearly  right  also  in 
maintaining  that  virtue  can  be  taught  (which  Socrates  himself, 
at  the  end  of  the  dialogue,  is  disposed  to  concede) ;  and  also  (3) 
in  his  explanation  of  the  phenomenon  that  good  fathers  have 
bad  sons ;  (4)  he  is  right  also  in  observing  that  the  virtues  are 
not,  like  the  arts,  gifts,  or  attainments  of  special  individuals,  but 
the  common  property  of  all :  this,  which  in  all  ages  has  been  the 
strength  and  weakness  of  ethics  and  politics,  is  deeply  seated 
in  human  nature ;  (5)  there  is  a  sort  of  half  truth  in  the  notion 
that  all  civilized  men  are  teachers  of  virtue ;  and  (6)  the  relig- 
ious allegory  should  be  noticed,  in  which  the  arts  are  said  to  be 
given  by  Prometheus  (who  stole  them),  whereas  justice  and 
reverence  and  the  political  virtues  could  only  be  imparted  by 
Zeus.  It  is  observable  also  (7)  in  the  latter  part  of  the  dialogue, 
when  Socrates  is  arguing  that  "  pleasure  is  the  only  good," 
Protagoras  deems  it  more  in  accordance  with  his  character  to 
maintain  that  "  some  pleasures  only  are  good." 

There  is  no  reason  to  suppose  that  in  all  this  Plato  is  depict- 
ing an  imaginary  Protagoras ;  at  any  rate,  he  is  showing  us  the 
teaching  of  the  Sophists  under  the  milder  aspect  under  which  he 
once  regarded  them.  Nor  is  there  any  reason  to  doubt  that 
Socrates  is  equally  a  historical  character,  paradoxical,  ironical, 
tiresome,  but  seeking  for  the  unity  of  virtue  and  knowledge  as 
for  a  precious  treasure ;  willing  to  rest  this  even  on  a  calcula- 
tion of  pleasure,  and  irresistible  here,  as  everywhere  in  Plato,  in 
his  intellectual  superiority. 

The  aim  of  Socrates,  and  of  the  dialogue,  is  to  show  the  unity 
of  virtue.  In  the  determination  of  this  question  the  identity  of 
virtue  and  knowledge  is  found  to  be  involved.  But  if  virtue  and 
knowledge  are  one,  then  virtue  can  be  taught ;  the  end  of  the 
dialogue  returns  to  the  beginning.  Had  Protagoras  been  al- 
lowed by  Plato  to  make  the  Aristotelian  distinction,  and  say 
that  virtue  is  not  knowledge,  but  is  accompanied  with  knowl- 
edge ;  or  to  point  out  with  Aristotle  that  the  same  quality  may 
have  more  than  one  opposite;   or  with  Plato  himself  in  the 


INTRODUCTION  TO  PROTAGORAS        151 

"  Phaedo  "  to  deny  that  good  is  a  mere  exchange  of  a  greater 
pleasure  for  a  less — the  unity  of  virtue  and  the  identity  of 
virtue  and  knowledge  would  have  required  to  be  proved  by 
other  arguments. 

The  victory  of  Socrates  over  Protagoras  is  in  every  way  com- 
plete when  their  minds  are  fairly  brought  together.  Protagoras 
falls  before  him  after  two  or  three  blows.  Socrates  partly  gains 
his  object  in  the  first  part,  and  completely  in  the  second.  Nor 
does  he  appear  at  any  disadvantage  when  subjected  to  "  the 
question  "  by  Protagoras.  He  succeeds  in  making  his  two 
"  friends,"  Prodicus  and  Hippias,  ludicrous  by  the  way ;  he  also 
makes  a  long  speech  in  defence  of  the  poem  of  Simonides,  after 
the  manner  of  the  Sophists,  showing,  as  Alcibiades  says,  that 
he  is  only  pretending  to  have  a  bad  memory. 

Not  having  the  whole  of  this  poem  before  us,  it  is  impossible 
for  us  to  answer  certainly  the  question  of  Protagoras,  how  the 
two  passages  of  Simonides  are  to  be  reconciled.  We  can  only 
follow  the  indications  given  by  Plato  himself.  But  it  seems 
likely  that  the  reconcilement  offered  by  Socrates  is  only  a  cari- 
cature of  the  methods  of  interpretation  which  were  practised 
by  the  Sophists — for  the  following  reasons :  (i)  The  transparent 
irony  of  the  previous  interpretations  given  by  Socrates.  (2) 
The  ludicrous  opening  of  the  speech  in  which  the  Lacedaemo- 
nians are  described  as  the  true  philosophers,  and  Laconic  brevity 
as  the  true  form  of  philosophy,  evidently  with  an  allusion  to 
Protagoras's  long  speeches.  (3)  The  manifest  futility  and  ab- 
surdity of  the  explanation  of  e/iwy  iiraivijfii  uXa0io)<i,  which 
is  hardly  consistent  with  the  rational  interpretation  of  the  rest 
of  the  poem.  The  opposition  of  elvai  andyeviadai  seems  also 
intended  to  express  the  rival  doctrines  of  Socrates  and  Pro- 
tagoras, and  is  a  sort  of  facetious  commentary  on  their  differ- 
ences. (4)  The  general  treatment  in  Plato  both  of  the  poets  and 
the  Sophists,  who  are  their  interpreters,  and  whom  he  delights 
to  identify  with  them.  (5^  The  depreciating  spirit  in  which  Soc- 
rates speaks  of  the  introduction  of  the  poets  as  a  substitute  for 
original  conversation,  which  is  intended  to  contrast  with  Pro- 
tagoras's exaltation  of  the  study  of  them — this  again  is  hardly 
consistent  with  the  serious  defence  of  Simonides.  (6)  The 
marked  approval  of  Hippias,  who  is  supposed  at  once  to  catch 
the  familiar  sound,  just  as  in  the  previous  conversation  Prodicus 
is  represented  as  ready  to  accept  any  distinctions  of  language 


J52  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

however  absurd.  At  the  same  time  Hippias  is  desirous  of  sub- 
stituting a  new  interpretation  of  his  own ;  as  if  the  words  might 
really  be  made  to  mean  anything,  and  were  only  to  be  regarded 
as  affording  a  field  for  the  ingenuity  of  the  interpreter. 

This  curious  passage  is,  therefore,  to  be  regarded  as  Plato's 
satire  on  the  tedious  and  hypercritical  arts  of  interpretation 
which  prevailed  in  his  own  day,  and  may  be  compared  with  his 
condemnation  of  the  same  arts  when  applied  to  mythology  in 
the  "  Phaedrus,"  and  with  his  other  parodies,  e.g.  with  the  sec- 
ond speech  in  the  "  Phaedrus  "  and  with  the  ''  Menexenus." 
Several  lesser  touches  of  satire  appear  in  it,  e.g.  the  claim  of 
philosophy  advanced  for  the  Lacedaemonians,  which  is  a  parody 
of  the  claims  advanced  for  the  poets  by  Protagoras ;  the  mis- 
take of  the  Laconizing  set  in  supposing  that  the  Lacedaemo- 
nians are  a  great  nation  because  they  bruise  their  ears ;  the  far- 
fetched notion,  which  is  "  really  too  bad,"  that  Simonides  uses 
the  Lesbian  ( ?)  word  iTraivrjfii  because  he  is  addressing  a  Les- 
bian. The  whole  may  also  be  considered  as  a  satire  on  those 
who  spin  pompous  theories  out  of  nothing. 

All  the  interests  and  contrasts  of  character  in  a  great  dramatic 
work  like  the  "  Protagoras  "  are  not  easily  exhausted.  The  im- 
pressiveness  of  the  scene  should  not  be  lost  upon  us,  or  the 
gradual  substitution  of  Socrates  in  the  second  part  for  Pro- 
tagoras in  the  first.  There  is  Alcibiades,  who  is  compelled  by 
the  necessity  of  his  nature  to  be  a  partisan,  lending  effectual  aid 
to  Socrates ;  there  is  Critias  assuming  the  tone  of  impartiality ; 
Callias  there  as  always  inclining  to  the  Sophist,  but  eager  for 
any  intellectual  repast ;  Prodicus,  who  finds  an  opportunity  for 
displaying  his  distinctions  of  language ;  Hippias  for  exhibiting 
his  vanity  and  superficial  knowledge  of  natural  philosophy. 
Both  of  these  have  been  previously  a  good  deal  damaged  by 
the  mock  sublime  description  of  them  in  the  introduction.  It 
may  be  remarked  that  Protagoras  is  consistently  presented  to 
us  throughout  as  the  teacher  of  moral  and  political  virtue ;  there 
is  no  allusion  to  the  theories  of  sensation  which  are  attributed  to 
him  elsewhere,  or  to  his  denial  of  the  existence  of  the  gods ;  he 
is  the  religious  rather  than  the  irreligious  teacher  in  this  dia- 
logue. Also  it  may  be  observed  that  Socrates  shows  him  as 
much  respect  as  is  consistent  with  his  own  ironical  character. 

Thus  after  many  preparations  and  oppositions,  both  of  the 
characters  of  men  and  aspects  of  the  truth,  especially  of  the 


INTRODUCTION  TO  PROTAGORAS       153 

popular  and  philosophical  aspect ;  and  after  many  interruptions 
and  detentions  by  the  way,  which,  as  Theodorus  says  in  the 
"  Theaetetus,"  are  quite  as  agreeable  as  the  argument,  we  arrive 
at  the  great  Socratic  thesis  that  virtue  is  knowledge.  This  is  an 
aspect  of  the  truth  which  was  lost  almost  as  soon  as  it  was  found, 
and  yet  has  to  be  recovered  by  everyone  for  himself  who  would 
pass  the  limits  of  proverbial  and  popular  philosophy.  It  is  not 
to  be  regarded  only  as  a  passing  stage  in  the  history  of  the 
human  mind,  but  as  an  anticipation  of  the  reconcilement  of  the 
moral  and  intellectual  elements  of  human  nature. 


PROTAGORAS 

PERSONS  OF  THE  DIALOGUE 

Socrates,  who  is  the  narrator  of  Protagoras) 

the  dialogue  to  his  Companion  Hippias        [•  Sophists 

Hippocrates  Prodicus      J 

Alcibiades  Callias,  a  wealthy  Athenian 

Critias 

Scene  : — The  House  of  Callias 

Companion. 

WHERE  do  you  come  from,  Socrates  ?    And  yet  I  need 
hardly  ask  the  question,  as  I  know  that  you  have 
been  in  chase  of  the  fair  Alcibiades.     I  saw  him  the 
day  before  yesterday ;  and  he  had  got  a  beard  like  a  man — and 
he  is  a  man,  as  I  may  tell  you  in  your  ear.     But  I  thought  that 
he  was  still  very  charming. 

Socrates.  What  of  his  beard?  Are  you  not  of  Homer's 
opinion,  who  says  that* — 

"  Youth  is  most  charming  when  the  beard  first  appears  "  ? 

And  that  is  now  the  charm  of  Alcibiades. 

Com.  Well,  and  how  do  matters  proceed?  Have  you  been 
visiting  him,  and  was  he  gracious  to  you  ? 

Soc.  Yes,  I  thought  that  he  was  very  gracious ;  and  especially 
to-day,  for  I  have  just  come  from  him,  and  he  has  been  helping 
me  in  an  argument.  But  shall  I  tell  you  a  strange  thing  ?  Al- 
though he  was  present,  I  never  attended  to  him,  and  several 
times  he  quite  passed  out  of  my  mind. 

Com.  What  is  the  meaning  of  this?  Has  anything  hap- 
pened between  you  and  him  ?  For  surely  you  cannot  have  dis- 
covered a  fairer  love  than  he  is;  certainly  not  in  this  city  of 
Athens. 

Soc.  Yes,  much  fairer. 

*  II.  xxiv.  348. 
154 


PROTAGORAS  155 

Com.  What  do  you  mean — a  citizen  or  a  foreigner  ? 

Soc.  A  foreigner. 

Com.  Of  what  country? 

Soc.  Of  Abdera. 

Com.  And  is  this  stranger  really,  in  your  opinion,  fairer  than 
the  son  of  Cleinias  ? 

Soc.  And  is  not  the  wiser  always  the  fairer,  sweet  friend  ? 

Com.  But  have  you  really  met,  Socrates,  with  some  wise 
one? 

Soc.  Yes;  I  would  say,  rather,  with  the  wisest  of  all  living 
men,  if  you  are  willing  to  accord  that  title  to  Protagoras. 

Com.  What!  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  Protagoras  is  in 
Athens  ? 

Soc.  Yes ;  he  has  been  here  two  days. 

Com.  And  do  you  just  come  from  an  interview  with  him? 

Soc.  Yes ;  and  I  have  heard  and  said  many  things. 

Com.  Then,  if  you  have  no  engagement,  suppose  that  you 
sit  down  and  tell  me  what  passed,  and  my  attendant  shall  give 
up  his  place  to  you. 

Soc.  To  be  sure ;  and  I  shall  be  grateful  to  you  for  listening. 

Com.  Thank  you,  too,  for  telling  us. 

Soc.  That  is  thank  you  twice  over.     Listen  then: — 

Last  night,  or  rather  very  early  this  morning,  Hippocrates, 
the  son  of  Apollodorus  and  the  brother  of  Phason,  gave  a 
tremendous  thump  with  his  staff  at  my  door;  someone  opened 
to  him,  and  he  came  rushing  in  and  bawled  out:  Socrates, 
are  you  awake  or  asleep  ? 

I  knew  his  voice,  and  said:  Hippocrates,  is  that  you?  and 
do  you  bring  any  news  ? 

Good  news,  he  said ;  nothing  but  good. 

Very  good,  I  said ;  but  what  news  ?  and  why  have  you  come 
here  at  this  unearthly  hour? 

He  drew  nearer  to  me  and  said :     Protagoras  is  come. 

Yes,  I  said ;  he  came  two  days  ago :  have  you  only  just  heard 
of  his  arrival  ? 

Yes,  indeed,  he  said ;  I  heard  yesterday  evening. 

At  the  same  time  he  felt  for  the  truckle-bed,  and  sat  down 
at  my  feet,  and  then  he  said :  I  heard  yesterday  quite  late  in 
the  evening,  on  my  return  from  CEnoe  whither  I  had  gone  in 
pursuit  of  my  runaway  slave  Satyrus — as  I  was  going  to  have 
told  you  if  some  other  matter  had  not  come  in  the  way;  on 


156  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

my  return,  when  we  had  done  supper  and  were  about  to  retire 
to  rest,  my  brother  said  to  me :  Protagoras  is  come.  And  I 
was  going  to  you  at  once,  if  I  had  not  considered  that  the  night 
was  far  spent.  But  when  sleep  relaxed  her  hold  on  me  after 
my  toil,  I  got  up  and  came  hither  direct. 

I,  who  knew  the  very  courageous  madness  of  the  man,  said : 
What  is  the  matter  ?  has  Protagoras  robbed  you  of  anything  ? 

He  replied,  laughing:  Yes,  indeed  he  has,  Socrates,  of  the 
wisdom  which  he  keeps  to  himself. 

But,  surely,  I  said,  if  you  give  him  money,  and  make  friends 
with  him,  he  will  make  you  as  wise  as  he  is  himself. 

Would  to  Heaven,  he  replied,  that  he  would!  He  might 
take  all  that  I  have,  and  all  that  my  friends  have,  if  he  would. 
And  that  is  why  I  have  come  to  you  now,  in  order  that  you 
may  speak  to  him  on  my  behalf ;  for  I  am  young,  and  also  I  have 
never  seen  nor  heard  him  (when  he  visited  Athens  before  I  was 
but  a  child)  ;  and  all  men  praise  him,  Socrates,  as  being  the 
most  accomplished  of  speakers.  There  is  no  reason  why  we 
should  not  go  to  him  at  once,  and  then  we  shall  find  him  at 
home.  He  lodges,  as  I  hear,  with  Callias,  the  son  of  Hip- 
ponicus.     Let  us  start. 

I  replied :  Not  yet,  my  good  friend ;  the  hour  is  too  early. 
But  let  us  rise  and  take  a  turn  in  the  court  and  wait  there  until 
daybreak,  and  when  the  day  breaks,  then  we  will  go;  for 
Protagoras  is  generally  at  home,  and  we  shall  be  sure  to  find 
him ;  never  fear. 

Upon  this  we  got  up  and  walked  about  in  the  court,  and  I 
thought  that  I  would  make  trial  of  the  strength  of  his  resolu- 
tion. So  I  examined  him  and  put  questions  to  him.  Tell  me, 
Hippocrates,  I  said,  as  you  are  going  to  Protagoras,  and  will 
be  paying  your  money  to  him,  what  is  he  to  whom  you  are 
going?  and  what  will  he  make  of  you?  If  you  were  going  to 
Hippocrates,  the  Coan,  the  Asclepiad,  and  were  about  to  give 
him  money,  and  some  one  said  to  you :  As  being  what,  do  you 
give  money  to  your  namesake  Hippocrates,  O  Hippocrates? 
what  would  you  answer? 

I  should  say,  he  replied,  that  I  give  money  to  him  as  ai 
physician. 

And  what  will  he  make  of  you  ? 

A  physician,  he  said. 

And  if  you  went  to  Polycleitus  the  Argive,  or  Pheidias  the 


PROTAGORAS  157 

Athenian,  and  intended  to  give  them  money,  and  someone  were 
to  ask  you :  As  being  what,  do  you  give  this  money  to  Polyclei- 
tus  and  Pheidias  ?  what  would  you  answer  ? 

I  should  answer,  as  being  statuaries. 

And  what  will  they  make  of  you  ? 

A  statuary,  of  course. 

Well,  now,  I  said,  you  and  I  are  going  to  Protagoras,  and 
we  are  ready  to  pay  him  money  for  you.  If  our  own  means  are 
sufficient,  and  we  can  gain  him  with  these,  we  shall  be  too  glad ; 
but  if  not,  then  we  are  to  spend  your  friend's  money  as  well. 
Now  suppose  that  while  we  are  in  this  intense  state  of  excite- 
ment, someone  were  to  say  to  us :  Tell  me,  Socrates,  and  you, 
Hippocrates,  as  being  what,  are  you  going  to  pay  money  to 
Protagoras  ?  how  should  we  answer  him  ?  I  know  that  Pheidias 
is  a  sculptor,  and  Homer  is  a  poet;  but  what  appellation  is 
given  to  Protagoras  ?  how  is  he  designated  ? 

They  call  him  a  Sophist,  Socrates,  he  replied. 

Then  we  are  going  to  pay  our  money  to  him  in  the  character 
of  a  Sophist  ? 

Certainly 

But  suppose  a  person  were  to  ask  this  further  question :  And 
how  about  yourself  ?  what  will  Protagoras  make  you,  if  you  go 
to  see  him? 

He  answered,  with  a  blush  upon  his  face  (for  the  day  was 
just  beginning  to  dawn,  so  that  I  could  see  him)  :  Unless  this 
differs  in  some  way  from  the  former  instances,  I  suppose  that 
he  will  make  a  Sophist  of  me. 

And  are  you  not  in  sober  earnest  ashamed,  I  said,  at  having 
to  appear  before  the  Hellenes  in  the  character  of  a  Sophist? 

Indeed,  Socrates,  if  I  am  to  confess  the  truth,  I  am. 

But  why  do  you  assume,  Hippocrates,  that  the  instruction 
of  Protagoras  is  of  this  nature?  and  why  may  you  not  learn 
of  him  in  the  same  way  that  you  learned  the  arts  of  the  gram- 
marian or  musician  or  trainer,  not  with  the  view  of  making  any 
of  them  a  profession,  but  only  as  a  part  of  education,  and 
because  a  private  gentleman  and  freeman  ought  to  know  them  ? 

Just  so,  he  said;  and  that,  in  my  opinion,  is  a  far  truer  ac- 
count of  the  teaching  of  Protagoras. 

I  said :  I  wonder  whether  you  know  what  you  are  doing? 

And  what  am  I  doing? 

You  are  going  to  commit  your  soul  to  the  care  of  a  man 


158  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

whom  you  call  a  Sophist.  And  yet  I  hardly  think  that  you 
know  what  a  Sophist  is ;  and  if  not,  then  you  do  not  even  know 
whether  you  are  committing  your  soul  to  good  or  evil. 

I  certainly  think  that  I  do  know,  he  replied. 

Then  tell  me,  what  do  you  imagine  that  he  is  ? 

I  take  him  to  be  one  who  is  wise  and  knowing,  he  replied,  as 
his  name  implies. 

And  might  you  not,  I  said,  affirm  this  of  the  painter  and  the 
carpenter  also;  are  not  they,  too,  wise  and  knowing?  But 
suppose  a  person  were  to  ask  us :  In  what  are  the  painters  wise  ? 
We  should  answer :  In  what  relates  to  the  making  of  likenesses, 
and  similarly  of  other  things.  And  if  he  were  further  to  ask : 
What  is  the  wisdom  of  the  Sophist,  and  what  is  the  manu- 
facture over  which  he  presides  ?  how  should  we  answer  him  ? 

How  should  we  answer  him,  Socrates  ?  What  other  answer 
could  there  be  but  that  he  presides  over  the  art  which  makes 
men  eloquent? 

Yes,  I  replied,  that  is  very  likely  a  true,  but  not  a  sufficient, 
answer ;  for  a  further  question  is  involved :  About  what  does 
the  Sophist  make  a  man  eloquent  ?  The  player  on  the  lyre  may 
be  supposed  to  make  a  man  eloquent  about  that  which  he 
makes  him  understand,  that  is  about  playing  the  lyre.  Is  not 
that  true? 

Yes. 

Then  about  what  does  the  Sophist  make  him  eloquent  ?  must 
not  he  make  him  eloquent  in  that  which  he  understands? 

Yes,  that  may  be  assumed. 

And  what  is  that  which  the  Sophist  knows  and  makes  his 
disciple  know? 

Indeed,  he  said,  that  I  cannot  tell. 

Then  I  proceeded  to  say:  Well,  but  are  you  aware  of  the 
danger  which  you  are  incurring?  If  you  were  going  to  com- 
mit the  body  to  someone,  and  there  was  a  risk  of  your  getting 
good  or  harm  from  him,  would  you  not  carefully  consider  and 
ask  the  opinion  of  your  friends  and  kindred,  and  deliberate 
many  days  as  to  whether  you  should  give  him  the  care  of  your 
body  ?  But  when  the  soul  is  in  question,  which  you  hold  to  be 
of  far  more  value  than  the  body,  and  upon  the  well  or  ill  being 
of  which  depends  your  all — about  this  you  never  consulted 
either  with  your  father  or  with  your  brother,  or  with  anyone 
of  us  who  are  your  companions.     But  no  sooner  does  this  for- 


PROTAGORAS  159 

eigner  appear,  than  you  instantly  commit  your  soul  to  his 
keeping.  In  the  evening,  as  you  say,  you  hear  of  him,  and  in 
the  morning  you  go  to  him,  never  deHberating,  or  taking  the 
opinion  of  anyone  as  to  whether  you  ought  to  intrust  yourself 
to  him  or  not ;  you  have  quite  made  up  your  mind  that  you  will 
be  a  pupil  of  Protagoras,  and  are  prepared  to  expend  all  the 
property  of  yourself  and  of  your  friends  in  carrying  out  at  any 
price  this  determination,  although,  as  you  admit,  you  do  not 
know  him,  and  have  never  spoken  with  him  :  and  you  call  him  a 
Sophist,  but  are  manifestly  ignorant  of  what  a  Sophist  is ;  and 
yet  you  are  going  to  commit  yourself  to  his  keeping. 

When  he  heard  me  say  this  he  replied:  That  I  suppose, 
Socrates,  is  the  conclusion  which  I  must  draw  from  your  words. 

I  proceeded :  Is  not  a  Sophist,  Hippocrates,  one  who  deals 
wholesale  or  retail  in  the  food  of  the  soul  ?  To  me  that  appears 
to  be  the  sort  of  man. 

And  what,  Socrates,  is  the  food  of  the  soul  ? 

Surely,  I  said,  knowledge  is  the  food  of  the  soul;  and  we 
must  take  care,  my  friend,  that  the  Sophist  does  not  deceive  us 
when  he  praises  what  he  sells,  like  the  dealers  wholesale  or 
retail  who  sell  the  food  of  the  body ;  for  they  praise  indiscrim- 
inately all  their  goods,  without  knowing  what  are  really  bene- 
ficial or  hurtful ;  neither  do  their  customers  know,  with  the 
exception  of  any  trainer  or  physician  who  may  happen  to  buy 
of  them.  In  like  manner  those  who  carry  about  the  wares  of 
knowledge,  and  make  the  round  of  the  cities,  and  sell  or  retail 
them  to  any  customer  who  is  in  want  of  them,  praise  them  all 
alike ;  and  I  should  not  wonder,  O  my  friend,  if  many  of  them 
were  really  ignorant  of  their  effect  upon  the  soul ;  and  their 
customers  equally  ignorant,  unless  he  who  buys  of  them  hap- 
pens to  be  a  physician  of  the  soul.  If  therefore  you  have  un- 
derstanding of  what  is  good  and  evil,  you  may  safely  buy 
knowledge  of  Protagoras  or  of  anyone ;  but  if  not,  then,  O  my 
friend,  pause,  and  do  not  hazard  your  dearest  interests  at  a 
game  of  chance.  For  there  is  far  greater  peril  in  buying  knowl- 
edge than  in  buying  meat  and  drink :  the  one  you  purchase  of 
the  wholesale  or  retail  dealer,  and  carry  them  away  in  other 
vessels,  and  before  you  receive  them  into  the  body  as  food  you 
may  deposit  them  at  home  and  call  in  any  experienced  friend 
who  knows  what  is  good  to  be  eaten  or  drunken,  and  what  not, 
and  how  much  and  when ;  and  hence  the  danger  of  purchasing 


x6e  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

them  is  not  so  great.  But  when  you  buy  the  wares  of  knowl- 
edge you  cannot  carry  them  away  in  another  vessel ;  they  have 
been  sold  to  you,  and  you  must  take  them  into  the  soul  and  go 
your  way,  either  greatly  harmed  or  greatly  benefited  by  the 
lesson:  and  therefore  we  should  think  about  this  and  take 
council  with  our  elders;  for  we  are  still  young — too  young  to 
determine  such  a  matter.  And  now  let  us  go,  as  we  were  in- 
tending, and  hear  Protagoras ;  and  when  we  have  heard  what 
he  has  to  say,  we  may  take  counsel  of  others ;  for  not  only  is 
Protagoras  at  the  house  of  Callias,  but  there  is  Hippias  of  ElTs, 
and,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  Prodicus  of  Ceos,  and  several  other 
wise  men. 

To  this  we  agreed,  and  proceeded  on  our  way  until  we  reached 
the  vestibule  of  the  house;  and  there  we  stopped  in  order  to 
finish  a  dispute  which  had  arisen  as  we  were  going  along ;  and 
we  stood  talking  in  the  vestibule  until  we  had  finished  and  come 
to  an  understanding.  And  I  think  that  the  doorkeeper,  who 
was  a  eunuch,  and  who  was  probably  annoyed  at  the  great  in- 
road of  the  Sophists,  must  have  heard  us  talking.  At  any  rate, 
when  we  knocked  at  the  door,  and  he  opened  and  saw  us,  he 
grumbled:  They  are  Sophists — he  is  not  at  home;  and  in- 
stantly gave  the  door  a  hearty  bang  with  both  his  hands.  Again 
we  knocked,  and  he  answered  without  opening:  Did  you  not 
hear  me  say  that  he  is  not  at  home,  fellows  ?  But,  my  friend,  I 
said,  we  are  not  Sophists,  and  we  are  not  come  to  see  Callias ; 
fear  not,  for  we  want  to  see  Protagoras ;  and  I  must  request 
you  to  announce  us.  At  last,  after  a  good  deal  of  difficulty, 
the  man  was  persuaded  to  open  the  door. 

When  we  entered,  we  found  Protagoras  taking  a  walk  in  the 
portico ;  and  next  to  him,  on  one  side,  were  walking  Callias  the 
son  of  Hipponicus,  and  Paralus  the  son  of  Pericles,  who,  by  the 
mother's  side,  is  his  half-brother,  and  Charmides  the  son  of 
Glaucon.  On  the  other  side  of  him  were  Xanthippus  the  other 
son  of  Pericles,  Philippides  the  son  of  Philomelus;  also  An- 
timcerus  of  Mende,  who  of  all  the  disciples  of  Protagoras  is  the 
most  famous,  and  intends  to  make  sophistry  his  profession.  A 
train  of  listeners  followed  him,  of  whom  the  greater  part  ap- 
peared to  be  foreigners,  who  accompanied  Protagoras  out  of 
the  various  cities  through  which  he  journeyed.  Now  he,  like 
Orpheus,  attracted  them  by  his  voice,  and  they  followed  the 
attraction.     I  should  mention  also  that  there  were  some  Athe- 


PROTAGORAS  l6i 

nians  in  the  company.  Nothing  delighted  me  more  than  the 
precision  of  their  movements:  they  never  got  into  his  way  at 
all,  but  when  he  and  those  who  were  with  him  turned  back,  then 
the  band  of  listeners  divided  into  two  parts  on  either  side ;  he 
was  always  in  front,  and  they  wheeled  round  and  took  their 
places  behind  him  in  perfect  order. 

After  him,  as  Homer  says,*  "  I  lifted  up  my  eyes  and  saw  " 
Hippias  the  Elean  sitting  in  the  opposite  portico  on  a  chair  of 
state,  and  around  him  were  seated  on  benches  Eryximachus  the 
son  of  Acumenus,  and  Phaedrus  the  Myrrhinusian,  and  Andron 
the  son  of  Androtion,  and  there  were  strangers  whom  he  had 
brought  with  him  from  his  native  city  of  Elis,  and  some  others ; 
they  appeared  to  be  asking  Hippias  certain  physical  and  astro- 
nomical questions,  and  he,  ex  cathedra,  was  determining  their 
several  questions  to  them  and  discoursing  of  them. 

Also,  "  my  eyes  beheld  Tantalus  " ;  f  for  Prodicus  the  Cean 
was  at  Athens :  he  had  been  put  into  a  room  which,  in  the  days 
of  Hipponicus,  was  a  storehouse ;  but  as  the  house  was  full, 
Callias  had  cleared  this  out  and  made  the  room  into  a  guest- 
chamber.  Now  Prodicus  was  still  in  bed,  wrapped  up  in  sheep- 
skins and  bedclothes,  of  which  there  seemed  to  be  a  great  heap ; 
and  there  were  sitting  by  him,  on  the  couches  near,  Pausanias 
of  the  deme  of  Cerameis,  and  with  Pausanias  was  a  youth  quite 
young,  who  is  certainly  remarkable  for  his  good  looks,  and,  if 
I  am  not  mistaken,  is  also  of  a  fair  and  gentle  nature.  I  think 
that  I  heard  him  called  Agathon,  and  my  suspicion  is  that  he 
is  the  beloved  of  Pausanias.  There  was  this  youth  and  also 
there  were  the  two  Adeimantuses,  one  the  son  of  Cepis,  and  the 
other  of  Leucolophides,  and  some  others.  I  was  very  anxious 
to  hear  what  Prodicus  was  saying,  for  he  seemed  to  me  to  be  an 
extraordinarily  wise  and  divine  man ;  but  I  was  not  able  to  get 
into  the  inner  circle,  and  his  fine  deep  voice  made  an  echo  in 
the  room  which  rendered  his  words  inaudible. 

No  sooner  had  we  entered  than  there  followed  us  Alcibiades 
the  beautiful,  as  you  say,  and  I  believe  you ;  and  also  Critias  the 
son  of  Callaeschrus. 

On  entering  we  stopped  a  little,  in  order  to  look  about  us, 
and  then  walked  up  to  Protagoras,  and  I  said :  Protagoras,  my 
friend  Hippocrates  and  I  have  come  to  see  you. 

*  Od.  xi.  6oi  foil.  t  Ibid.  582. 

It 


i62  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

Do  you  wish,  he  said,  to  speak  with  me  alone,  or  in  the 
presence  of  others  ? 

That  is  as  you  please,  I  said :  you  shall  determine  when  you 
have  heard  the  object  of  our  visit. 

And  what  is  that?  he  said. 

I  must  explain,  I  said,  that  my  friend  Hippocrates  is  a  native 
Athenian ;  he  is  the  son  of  Apollodorus,  and  of  a  great  and 
prosperous  house,  and  he  is  himself  in  natural  ability  quite  a 
match  for  those  of  his  own  age.  I  believe  that  he  aspires  to 
political  eminence;  and  this  he  thinks  that  conversation  with 
you  is  most  likely  to  procure  for  him :  now  it  is  for  you  to 
decide  whether  you  would  wish  to  speak  to  him  of  these  mat- 
ters alone  or  in  company. 

Thank  you,  Socrates,  for  your  consideration  of  me.  For  cer- 
tainly a  stranger  finding  his  way  into  great  cities,  and  persuad- 
ing the  flower  of  the  youth  in  them  to  leave  the  company  of 
their  other  kinsmen  or  acquaintance  and  live  with  him,  under 
the  idea  that  they  will  be  improved  by  his  conversation,  ought 
to  be  very  cautious ;  great  jealousies  are  occasioned  by  his  pro- 
ceedings, and  he  is  the  subject  of  many  enmities  and  conspira- 
cies. I  maintain  the  art  of  the  Sophist  to  be  of  ancient  date ; 
but  that  in  ancient  times  the  professors  of  the  art,  fearing  this 
odium,  veiled  and  disguised  themselves  under  various  names: 
some  under  that  of  poets,  as  Homer,  Hesiod,  and  Simonides; 
some  as  hierophants  and  prophets,  as  Orpheus  and  Musaeus; 
and  some,  as  I  observe,  even  under  the  name  of  gymnastic 
masters,  like  Iccus  of  Tarentum,  or  the  more  recently  cele- 
brated Herodicus,  now  of  Selymbria  and  formerly  of  Megara, 
who  is  a  first-rate  Sophist.  Your  own  Agathocles  pretended 
to  be  a  musician,  but  was  really  an  eminent  Sophist ;  also 
Pythocleides  the  Cean ;  and  there  were  many  others ;  and  all 
of  them,  as  I  was  saying,  adopted  these  arts  as  veils  or  dis- 
guises because  they  were  afraid  of  the  envy  of  the  multitude. 
But  that  is  not  my  way,  for  I  do  not  believe  that  they  eflfected 
their  purpose,  which  was  to  deceive  the  government,  who  were 
not  blinded  by  them ;  and  as  to  the  people,  they  have  no  under- 
standing, and  only  repeat  what  their  rulers  are  pleased  to  tell 
them.  Now  to  run  away,  and  to  be  caught  in  running  away, 
is  the  very  height  of  folly,  and  also  greatly  increases  the  ex- 
asperation of  mankind ;  for  they  regard  him  who  runs  away  as  a 
rogue,  in  addition  to  any  other  objections  which  they  have  to 


PROTAGORAS  163 

him ;  and  therefore  I  take  an  entirely  opposite  course,  and  ac- 
knowledge myself  to  be  a  Sophist  and  instructor  of  mankind; 
such  an  open  acknowledgment  appears  to  me  to  be  a  better 
sort  of  caution  than  concealment.  Nor  do  I  neglect  other  pre- 
cautions, and  therefore  I  hope,  as  I  may  say,  by  the  favor  of 
heaven  that  no  harm  will  come  of  the  acknowledgment  that  I 
am  a  Sophist.  And  I  have  been  now  many  years  in  the  pro- 
fession— for  all  my  years  when  added  up  are  many — and  there 
is  no  one  here  present  of  whom  I  might  not  be  the  father. 
Wherefore  I  should  much  prefer  conversing  with  you,  if  you 
do  not  object,  in  the  presence  of  the  company. 

As  I  suspected  that  he  would  like  to  have  a  little  display  and 
glory  in  the  presence  of  Prodicus  and  Hippias,  and  would 
gladly  show  us  to  them  in  the  light  of  his  admirers,  I  said :  But 
why  should  we  not  summon  Prodicus  and  Hippias  and  their 
friends  to  hear  us? 

Very  good,  he  said. 

Suppose,  said  Callias,  that  we  hold  a  council  in  which  you 
may  sit  and  discuss.  This  was  determined,  and  great  delight 
was  felt  at  the  prospect  of  hearing  wise  men  talk ;  we  ourselves 
all  took  the  chairs  and  benches,  and  arranged  them  by  Hippias, 
where  the  other  benches  had  been  already  placed.  Meanwhile 
Callias  and  Alcibiades  got  up  Prodicus  and  brought  in  him  and 
his  companions. 

When  we  were  all  seated,  Protagoras  said:  Now  that  the 
company  are  assembled,  Socrates,  tell  me  about  the  young  man 
of  whom  you  were  just  now  speaking. 

I  replied :  I  will  begin  again  at  the  same  point,  Protagoras, 
and  tell  you  once  more  the  purport  of  my  visit:  this  is  my 
friend  Hippocrates,  who  is  desirous  of  making  your  acquaint- 
ance; he  wants  to  know  what  will  happen  to  him  if  he  as- 
sociates with  you.    That  is  all  I  have  to  say. 

Protagoras  answered:  Young  man,  if  you  associate  with 
me,  on  the  very  first  day  you  will  return  home  a  better  man 
than  you  came,  and  better  on  the  second  day  than  on  the  first, 
and  better  every  day  than  you  were  on  the  day  before. 

When  I  heard  this,  I  said :  Protagoras,  I  do  not  at  all  won- 
der at  hearing  you  say  this;  even  at  your  age,  and  with  all 
your  wisdom,  if  anyone  were  to  teach  you  what  you  did  not 
know  before,  you  would  become  better  no  doubt :  but  please  to 
answer  in  a  different  way ;  I  will  explain  how  by  an  example. 


1 64  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

Let  me  suppose  that  Hippocrates,  instead  of  desiring  your 
acquaintance,  wished  to  become  acquainted  with  the  young 
man  Zeuxippus  of  Heraclea,  who  has  newly  come  to  Athens, 
and  he  were  to  go  to  him  as  he  has  gone  to  you,  and  were  to 
hear  him  say,  as  he  has  heard  you  say,  that  every  day  he  would 
grow  and  become  better  if  he  associated  with  him:  and  then 
suppose  that  he  were  to  ask  him,  "  In  what  would  he  be  better, 
and  in  what  would  he  grow  ?  "  Zeuxippus  would  answer,  "  In 
painting."  And  suppose  that  he  went  to  Orthagoras  the  The- 
ban,  and  heard  him  say  the  same,  and  asked  him,  "  In  what 
would  he  become  better  day  by  day  ?  "  he  would  reply,  "  In  flute- 
playing."  Now  I  want  you  to  make  the  same  sort  of  answer 
to  this  young  man  and  to  me,  who  am  asking  questions  on  his 
account.  When  you  say  that  on  the  first  day  on  which  he 
associates  with  you  he  will  return  home  a  better  man,  and  on 
every  day  will  grow  in  like  manner — in  what,  Protagci-as,  will 
he  be  better?  and  about  what? 

When  Protagoras  heard  me  say  this,  he  replied:  You  ask 
questions  fairly,  and  I  like  to  answer  a  question  which  is  fairly 
put.  If  Hippocrates  comes  to  me  he  will  not  experience  the 
sort  of  drudgery  with  which  other  Sophists  are  in  the  habit 
of  insulting  their  pupils ;  who,  when  they  have  just  escaped  from 
the  arts,  are  taken  and  driven  back  into  them  by  these  teachers, 
and  made  to  learn  calculation,  and  astronomy,  and  geometry, 
and  music  (he  gave  a  look  at  Hippias  as  he  said  this)  ;  but  if  he 
comes  to  me,  he  will  learn  that  which  he  comes  to  learn.  And 
this  is  prudence  in  affairs  private  as  well  as  public;  he  will 
learn  to  order  his  own  house  in  the  best  manner,  and  he  will 
be  best  able  to  speak  and  act  in  the  affairs  of  the  State. 

Do  I  understand  you,  I  said ;  and  is  your  meaning  that  you 
teach  the  art  of  politics,  and  that  you  promise  to  make  men 
good  citizens? 

That,  Socrates,  is  exactly  the  profession  which  I  make. 

Then,  I  said,  you  do  indeed  possess  a  noble  art,  if  there  is 
no  mistake  about  this ;  for  I  will  freely  confess  to  you,  Protago- 
ras, that  I  have  a  doubt  whether  this  art  is  capable  of  being 
taught,  and  yet  I  know  not  how  to  disbelieve  your  assertion. 
And  I  ought  to  tell  you  why  I  am  of  opinion  that  this  art  can- 
not be  taught  or  communicated  by  man  to  man.  I  say  that 
the  Athenians  are  an  understanding  people,  as  indeed  they 
are  esteemed  by  the  other  Hellenes.     Now  I  observe  that  when 


PROTAGORAS  165 

we  are  met  together  in  the  assembly,  and  the  matter  in  hand 
relates  to  building,  the  builders  are  summoned  as  advisers; 
when  the  question  is  one  of  shipbuilding,  then  the  shipbuilders ; 
and  the  like  of  other  arts  which  they  think  capable  of  being 
taught  and  learned.  And  if  some  person  offers  to  give  them 
advice  who  is  not  supposed  by  them  to  have  any  skill  in  the 
art,  even  though  he  be  good-looking,  and  rich,  and  noble,  they 
don't  listen  to  him,  but  laugh  at  him,  and  hoot  him,  until  either 
he  is  clamored  down  and  retires  of  himself ;  or  if  he  persist,  he 
is  dragged  away  or  put  out  by  the  constables  at  the  command 
of  the  Prytanes.  This  is  their  way  of  behaving  about  the  arts 
which  have  professors.  When,  however,  the  question  is  an 
affair  of  state,  then  everybody  is  free  to  have  a  say — carpenter, 
tinker,  cobbler,  sailor,  passenger ;  rich  and  poor,  high  and  low 
— anyone  who  likes  gets  up,  and  no  one  reproaches  him,  as  in 
the  former  case,  with  not  having  learned,  and  having  no  teacher, 
and  yet  giving  advice;  evidently  because  they  are  under  the 
impression  that  this  sort  of  knowledge  cannot  be  taught.  And 
not  only  is  this  true  of  the  State,  but  of  individuals ;  the  best 
and  wisest  of  our  citizens  are  unable  to  impart  their  political 
wisdom  to  others :  as,  for  example,  Pericles,  the  father  of  these 
young  men,  who  gave  them  excellent  instruction  in  all  that 
could  be  learned  from  masters,  in  his  own  department  of 
politics  taught  them  nothing;  nor  did  he  give  them  teachers', 
but  they  were  allowed  to  wander  at  their  own  freewill,  in  a  sort 
of  hope  that  they  would  light  upon  virtue  of  their  own  accord. 
Or  take  another  example:  there  was  Cleinias,  the  younger 
brother  of  our  friend  Alcibiades,  of  whom  this  very  same 
Pericles  was  the  guardian ;  and  he  being  in  fact  under  the  ap- 
prehension that  Cleinias  would  be  corrupted  by  Alcibiades,  took 
him  away,  and  placed  him  in  the  house  of  Ariphron  to  be  edu- 
cated ;  but  before  six  months  had  elapsed,  Ariphron  sent  him 
back,  not  knowing  what  to  do  with  him.  And  I  could  mention 
numberless  other  instances  of  persons  who  were  good  them- 
selves, and  never  yet  made  anyone  else  good,  whether  friend 
or  stranger.  Now  I,  Protagoras,  when  I  reflect  on  all  this,  am 
inclined  to  think  that  virtue  cannot  be  taught.  But  then  again, 
when  I  listen  to  your  words,  I  am  disposed  to  waver ;  and  I  be- 
lieve that  there  must  be  something  in  what  you  say,  because  I 
know  that  you  have  great  experience,  and  learning,  and  inven- 
tion.    And  I  wish  that  you  would,  if  possible,  show  me  a  little 


i66  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

more  clearly  that  virtue  can  be  taught.  Will  you  be  so 
good? 

That  I  will,  Socrates,  and  gladly.  But  what  would  you  like  ? 
Shall  I,  as  an  elder,  speak  to  you  as  younger  men  in  an  apologue 
or  myth,  or  shall  I  argue  the  question  ? 

To  this  several  of  the  company  answered  that  he  should 
choose  for  himself. 

Well,  then,  he  said,  I  think  that  the  myth  will  be  more  in- 
teresting. 

Once  upon  a  time  there  were  gods  only,  and  no  mortal 
creatures.  But  when  the  time  came  that  these  also  should 
be  created,  the  gods  fashioned  them  out  of  earth  and  fire  and 
various  mixtures  of  both  elements  in  the  inward  parts  of  the 
earth ;  and  when  they  were  about  to  bring  them  into  the  light 
of  day,  they  ordered  Prometheus  and  Epimetheus  to  equip 
them,  and  to  distribute  to  them  severally  their  proper  qualities. 
Epimetheus  said  to  Prometheus :  "  Let  me  distribute,  and 
do  you  inspect."  This  was  agreed,  and  Epimetheus  made  the 
distribution.  There  were  some  to  whom  he  gave  strength 
without  swiftness,  or  again  swiftness  without  strength ;  some 
he  armed,  and  others  he  left  unarmed ;  and  devised  for  the 
latter  some  other  means  of  preservation,  making  some  large, 
and  having  their  size  as  a  protection,  and  others  small,  whose 
nature  was  to  fly  in  the  air  or  burrow  in  the  ground — this  was 
to  be  their  way  of  escape.  Thus  did  he  compensate  them  with 
the  view  of  preventing  any  race  from  becoming  extinct.  And 
when  he  had  provided  against  their  destruction  by  one  another, 
he  contrived  also  a  means  of  protecting  them  against  the  seasons 
of  heaven ;  clothing  them  with  close  hair  and  thick  skins  suffi- 
cient to  defend  them  against  the  winter  cold  and  summer  heat, 
and  for  a  natural  bed  of  their  own  when  they  wanted  to  rest ; 
also  he  furnished  them  with  hoofs  and  hair  and  hard  and  callous 
skins  under  their  feet.  Then  he  gave  them  varieties  of  food 
— to  some  herbs  of  the  soil,  to  others  fruits  of  trees,  and  to 
others  roots,  and  to  some  again  he  gave  other  animals  as  food. 
And  some  he  made  to  have  few  young  ones,  while  those  who 
were  their  prey  were  very  prolific;  and  in  this  way  the  race 
was  preserved.  Thus  did  Epimetheus,  who,  not  being  very 
wise,  forgot  that  he  had  distributed  among  the  brute  animals 
all  the  qualities  that  he  had  to  give — and  when  he  came  to  man, 
who  was  still  unprovided,  he  was  terribly  perplexed.     Now 


PROTAGORAS  167 

while  he  was  in  this  perplexity,  Prometheus  came  to  inspect 
the  distribution,  and  he  found  that  the  other  animals  were  suit- 
ably furnished,  but  that  man  alone  was  naked  and  shoeless,  and 
had  neither  bed  nor  arms  of  defence.  The  appointed  hour  was 
approaching  in  which  man  was  to  go  forth  into  the  light  of 
day;  and  Prometheus,  not  knowing  how  he  could  devise  his 
salvation,  stole  the  mechanical  arts  of  Hephaestus  and  Athene, 
and  fire  with  them  (they  could  neither  have  been  acquired  nor 
used  without  fire),  and  gave  them  to  man.  Thus  man  had  the 
wisdom  necessary  to  the  support  of  life,  but  political  wisdom 
he  had  not ;  for  that  was  in  the  keeping  of  Zeus,  and  the  power 
of  Prometheus  did  not  extend  to  entering  into  the  castle  of 
heaven,  in  which  Zeus  dwelt,  who  moreover  had  terrible  senti- 
nels ;  but  he  did  enter  by  stealth  into  the  common  workshop  of 
Athene  and  Hephaestus,  in  which  they  used  to  pursue  their 
favorite  arts,  and  took  away  Hephsestus's  art  of  working  by  fire, 
and  also  the  art  of  Athene,  and  gave  them  to  man.  And  in  this 
way  man  was  supplied  with  the  means  of  life.  But  Prometheus 
is  said  to  have  been  afterwards  prosecuted  for  theft,  owing  to 
the  blunder  of  Epimetheus. 

Now  man,  having  a  share  of  the  divine  attributes,  was  at 
first  the  only  one  of  the  animals  who  had  any  gods,  because 
he  alone  was  of  their  kindred ;  and  he  would  raise  altars  and 
images  of  them.  He  was  not  long  in  inventing  langiiage  and 
names ;  and  he  also  constructed  houses  and  clothes  and  shoes 
and  beds,  and  drew  sustenance  from  the  earth.  Thus  pro- 
vided, mankind  at  first  lived  dispersed,  and  there  were  no 
cities.  But  the  consequence  was  that  they  were  destroyed  by 
the  wild  beasts,  for  they  were  utterly  weak  in  comparison  of 
them,  and  their  art  was  only  sufficient  to  provide  them  with 
the  means  of  life,  and  would  not  enable  them  to  carry  on  war 
against  the  animals :  food  they  had,  but  not  as  yet  any  art  of 
government,  of  which  the  art  of  war  is  a  part.  After  a  while 
the  desire  of  self-preservation  gathered  them  into  cities;  but 
when  they  were  gathered  together,  having  no  art  of  govern- 
ment, they  evil  entreated  one  another,  and  were  again  in  process 
of  dispersion  and  destruction.  Zeus  feared  that  the  race  would 
be  exterminated,  and  so  he  sent  Hermes  to  them,  bearing  rev- 
erence and  justice  to  be  the  ordering  principles  of  cities  and 
the  bonds  of  friendship  and  conciliation.  Hermes  asked  Zeus 
how  he  should  impart  justice  and   reverence  among  men: 


l68  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

should  he  distribute  them  as  the  arts  are  distributed ;  that  is  to 
say,  to  a  favored  few  only — for  one  skilled  individual  has 
enough  of  medicine,  or  of  any  other  art,  for  many  unskilled 
ones?  Shall  this  be  the  manner  in  which  I  distribute  justice 
and  reverence  among  men,  or  shall  I  give  them  to  all?  To 
all,  said  Zeus ;  I  should  like  them  all  to  have  a  share ;  for  cities 
cannot  exist,  if  a  few  only  share  in  the  virtues,  as  in  the  arts. 
And  further,  make  a  law  by  my  order,  that  he  who  has  no  part 
in  reverence  and  justice  shall  be  put  to  death  as  a  plague  of  the 
State. 

And  this  is  the  reason,  Socrates,  why  the  Athenians  and 
mankind  in  general,  when  the  question  relates  to  carpentering 
or  any  other  mechanical  art,  allow  but  a  few  to  share  in  their 
deliberations ;  and  when  anyone  else  interferes,  then,  as  you 
say,  they  object,  if  he  be  not  of  the  favored  few,  and  that,  as  I 
say,  is  very  natural.  But  when  they  come  to  deliberate  about 
political  virtue,  which  proceeds  only  by  way  of  justice  and 
wisdom,  they  are  patient  enough  of  any  man  who  speaks  of 
them,  as  is  also  natural,  because  they  think  that  every  man 
ought  to  share  in  this  sort  of  virtue,  and  that  States  could  not 
exist  if  this  were  otherwise.  I  have  explained  to  you,  Soc- 
rates, the  reason  of  this  phenomenon. 

And  that  you  may  not  suppose  yourself  to  be  deceived  in 
thinking  that  all  men  regard  every  man  as  having  a  share  of 
justice  and  every  other  political  virtue,  let  me  give  you  a  fur- 
ther proof,  which  is  this.  In  other  cases,  as  you  are  aware, 
if  a  man  says  that  he  is  a  good  flute-player,  or  skilful  in  any 
other  art  in  which  he  has  no  skill,  people  either  laugh  at  him 
or  are  angry  with  him,  and  his  relations  think  that  he  is  mad 
i  and  go  and  admonish  him ;  but  when  honesty  is  in  question,  or 
some  other  political  virtue,  even  if  they  know  that  he  is  dis- 
honest, yet,  if  the  man  comes  publicly  forward  and  tells  the 
truth  about  his  dishonesty,  in  this  case  they  deem  that  to  be 
madness  which  in  the  other  case  was  held  by  them  to  be  good 
sense.  They  say  that  men  ought  to  profess  honesty  whether 
they  are  honest  or  not,  and  that  a  man  is  mad  who  does  not 
make  such  a  profession.  Their  notion  is,  that  a  man  must 
have  some  degree  of  honesty ;  and  that  if  he  has  none  at  all  he 
ought  not  to  be  in  the  world. 

I  have  been  showing  that  they  are  right  in  admitting  every 
man  as  a  counsellor  about  this  sort  of  virtue,  as  they  are  of 


PROTAGORAS  169 

opinion  that  every  man  is  a  partaker  of  it.  And  I  will  now 
endeavor  further  to  show  that  they  regard  this  virtue,  not  as 
given  by  nature,  or  growing  spontaneously,  but  as  capable  of 
being  learned  and  acquired  by  study.  For  injustice  is  pun- 
ished, whereas  no  one  would  instruct,  or  rebuke,  or  be  angry 
at  those  whose  calamities  they  suppose  to  come  to  them  either 
by  nature  or  chance;  they  do  not  try  to  alter  them,  they  do 
but  pity  them.  Who  would  be  so  foolish  as  to  chastise  or 
instruct  the  ugly,  or  the  diminutive,  or  the  feeble?  And  for 
this  reason;  they  know,  I  imagine,  that  this  sort  of  good  and 
evil  comes  to  them  by  nature  and  chance ;  whereas  if  a  man  is 
wanting  in  those  good  qualities  which  come  to  men  from  study 
and  exercise  and  teaching,  and  has  only  the  contrary  evil  quali- 
ties, men  are  angry  with  him,  and  punish  him  and  reprove 
him.  And  one  of  those  evil  qualities  is  impiety  and  injustice, 
and  they  may  be  described  generally  as  the  opposite  of  political 
virtue.  When  this  is  the  case,  any  man  will  be  angry  with 
another,  and  reprimand  him — clearly  under  the  impression  that 
by  study  and  learning  the  virtue  in  which  he  is  deficient  may 
be  acquired.  For  if  you  will  think,  Socrates,  of  the  effect 
which  punishment  has  on  evil-doers,  you  will  see  at  once  that 
in  the  opinion  of  mankind  virtue  may  be  acquired;  for  no  one 
punishes  the  evil-doer  under  the  notion,  or  for  the  reason, 
that  he  has  done  wrong — only  the  unreasonable  fury  of  a  beast 
acts  in  that  way.  But  he  who  desires  to  inflict  rational  pun- 
ishment does  not  retaliate  for  a  past  wrong,  for  that  which 
is  done  cannot  be  undone,  but  he  has  regard  to  the  future,  and 
is  desirous  that  the  man  who  is  punished,  and  he  who  sees 
him  punished,  may  be  deterred  from  doing  wrong  again.  And 
■  he  implies  that  virtue  is  capable  of  being  taught ;  as  he  un- 
doubtedly punishes  for  the  sake  of  prevention.  This  is  the 
notion  of  all  who  retaliate  upon  others  either  privately  or 
publicly.  And  the  Athenians,  too,  like  other  men,  retaliate  on 
those  whom  they  regard  as  evil-doers ;  and  this  argues  them 
to  be  of  the  number  of  those  who  think  that  virtue  may  be 
acquired  and  taught.  Thus  far,  Socrates,  I  have  shown  you 
clearly  enough,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  that  your  countrymen 
are  right  in  admitting  the  tinker  and  the  cobbler  to  advise 
about  politics,  and  also  that  they  deem  virtue  to  be  capable  of 
being  taught  and  acquired. 

There  yet  remains  one  difficulty  which  has  been  raised  by 


1 70  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

you  about  the  sons  of  good  men.  What  is  the  reason  why 
good  men  teach  their  sons  the  knowledge  which  is  gained  from 
teachers,  and  make  them  wise  in  that,  but  do  nothing  towards 
improving  them  in  the  virtues  which  distinguish  themselves? 
And  here,  Socrates,  I  will  leave  the  apologue  and  take  up  the 
argument.  Please  to  consider:  Is  there  or  is  there  not  some 
one  quality  in  which  all  the  citizens  must  be  partakers,  if  there 
is  to  be  a  city  at  all?  In  the  answer  to  this  question  is  con- 
tained the  only  solution  of  your  difficulty;  there  is  no  other. 
For  if  there  be  any  such  quality,  and  this  quality  or  unity  is 
not  the  art  of  the  carpenter,  or  the  smith,  or  the  potter, 
but  justice  and  temperance  and  holiness,  and,  in  a  word, 
manly  virtue — if  this  is  the  quality  of  which  all  men  must  be 
partakers,  and  which  is  the  very  condition  of  their  learning  or 
doing  anything  else,  and  if  he  who  is  wanting  in  this,  whether 
he  be  a  child  only  or  a  grown-up  man  or  woman,  must  be 
taught  and  punished,  until  by  punishment  he  becomes  better, 
and  he  who  rebels  against  instruction  and  punishment  is  either 
elxiled  or  condemned  to  death  under  the  idea  that  he  is  incura- 
ble— if,  I  say,  this  be  true,  and  nevertheless  good  men  have 
their  sons  taught  other  things  and  not  this,  do  consider  how 
extraordinary  would  be  their  conduct.  For  we  have  shown 
that  they  think  virtue  capable  of  being  taught  and  inculcated 
both  in  private  and  public ;  and  yet,  notwithstanding  this,  they 
teach  their  sons  lesser  matters,  ignorance  of  which  does  not 
involve  the  punishment  of  death :  but  those  things,  the  igno- 
rance of  which  may  cause  death  and  exile  to  those  who  have 
no  knowledge  or  training — aye,  and  confiscation  as  well  as 
death,  and,  in  a  word,  may  be  the  ruin  of  families — those 
things,  I  say,  they  are  supposed  not  to  teach  them — not  to  take 
the  utmost  care  they  should  learn.  That  is  not  likely, 
Socrates. 

Education  and  admonition  commence  in  the  first  years  of 
childhood,  and  last  to  the  very  end  of  life.  Mother  and  nurse 
and  father  and  tutor  are  quarrelling  about  the  improvement 
of  the  child  as  soon  as  ever  he  is  able  to  understand  them: 
he  cannot  say  or  do  anything  without  their  setting  forth  to 
him  that  this  is  just  and  that  is  unjust ;  this  is  honorable,  that 
is  dishonorable;  this  is  holy,  that  is  unholy;  do  this  and  ab- 
stain from  that.  And  if  he  obeys,  well  and  good ;  if  not,  he 
is  straightened  by  threats  and  blows,  like  a  piece  of  warped 


PROTAGORAS  1 7 1 

wood.  At  a  later  stage  they  send  him  to  teachers,  and  enjoin 
them  to  see  to  his  manners  even  more  than  to  his  reading 
and  music;  and  the  teachers  do  as  they  are  desired.  And 
when  the  boy  has  learned  his  letters  and  is  beginning  to  un- 
derstand what  is  written,  as  before  he  understood  only  what 
was  spoken,  they  put  into  his  hands  the  works  of  great  poets, 
which  he  reads  at  school;  in  these  are  contained  many  ad- 
monitions, and  many  tales,  and  praises,  and  encomia  of  ancient 
famous  men,  which  he  is  required  to  learn  by  heart,  in  order 
that  he  may  imitate  or  emulate  them  and  desire  to  become 
like  them.  Then,  again,  the  teachers  of  the  lyre  take  similar 
care  that  their  young  disciple  is  temperate  and  gets  into  no 
mischief;  and  when  they  have  taught  him  the  use  of  the 
lyre,  they  introduce  him  to  the  poems  of  other  excellent  poets, 
who  are  the  lyric  poets ;  and  these  they  set  to  music,  and  make 
their  harmonies  and  rhythms  quite  familiar  to  the  children,  in 
order  that  they  may  learn  to  be  more  gentle,  and  harmonious, 
and  rhythmical,  and  so  more  fitted  for  speech  and  action;  for 
the  life  of  man  in  every  part  has  need  of  harmony  and  rhythm. 
Then  they  send  them  to  the  master  of  gymnastic,  in  order  that 
their  bodies  may  better  minister  to  the  virtuous  mind,  and  that 
the  weakness  of  their  bodies  may  not  force  them  to  play  the 
coward  in  war  or  on  any  other  occasion.  This  is  what  is  done 
by  those  who  have  the  means,  and  those  who  have  the  means  are 
the  rich :  their  children  begin  education  soonest  and  leave  off 
latest.  When  they  have  done  with  masters,  the  State  again 
compels  them  to  learn  the  laws,  and  live  after  the  pattern 
which  they  furnish,  and  not  after  their  own  fancies ;  and  just  as 
in  learning  to  write,  the  writing-master  first  draws  lines  with  a 
style  for  the  use  of  the  young  beginner,  and  gives  him  the 
tablet  and  makes  him  follow  the  lines,  so  the  city  draws  the 
laws,  which  were  the  invention  of  good  lawgivers  who  were 
of  old  time ;  these  are  given  to  the  young  man,  in  order  to 
guide  him  in  his  conduct  whether  as  ruler  or  ruled;  and  he 
who  transgresses  them  is  to  be  corrected,  or,  in  other  words, 
called  to  account,  which  is  a  term  used  not  only  in  your  country, 
but  also  in  many  others.  Now  when  there  is  all  this  care  about 
virtue  private  and  public,  why,  Socrates,  do  you  still  wOnder 
and  doubt  whether  virtue  can  be  taught?  Cease  to  wonder, 
for  the  opposite  would  be  far  more  surprising. 

But  why  then  do  the  sons  of  good  fathers  often  turn  out 


172 


DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 


ill?  Let  me  explain  that — which  is  far  from  being  wonder- 
ful, if,  as  I  have  been  saying,  the  very  existence  of  the  State 
implies  that  virtue  is  not  any  man's  private  possession.  If 
this  be  true — and  nothing  can  be  truer — then  I  will  ask  you  to 
imagine,  as  an  illustration,  some  other  pursuit  or  branch  of 
knowledge  which  may  be  assumed  equally  to  be  the  condition 
of  the  existence  of  a  State.  Suppose  that  there  could  be  no 
State  unless  we  were  all  flute-players,  as  far  as  each  had  the 
capacity,  and  everybody  was  freely  teaching  everybody  the 
art,  both  in  private  and  public,  and  reproving  the  bad  player 
as  freely  and  openly  as  every  man  now  teaches  justice  and  the 
laws,  not  concealing  them  as  he  would  conceal  the  other  arts, 
but  imparting  them — for  all  of  us  have  a  mutual  interest  in 
the  justice  and  virtue  of  one  another,  and  this  is  the  reason 
why  everyone  is  ready  to  teach  justice  and  the  laws ;  suppose, 
I  say,  that  there  were  the  same  readiness  and  liberality  among 
us  in  teaching  one  another  flute-playing,  do  you  imagine,  Soc- 
rates, that  the  sons  of  good  flute-players  would  be  more  likely 
to  be  good  than  the  sons  of  bad  ones?  I  think  not.  Would 
not  their  sons  grow  up  to  be  distinguished  or  undistinguished 
according  to  their  own  natural  capacities  as  flute-players,  and 
the  son  of  a  good  player  would  often  turn  out  to  be  a  bad 
one,  and  the  son  of  a  bad  player  to  be  a  good  one,  and  all  flute- 
players  would  be  good  enough  in  comparison  of  those  who 
were  ignorant  and  unacquainted  with  the  art  of  flute-playing? 
In  like  manner  I  would  have  you  consider  that  he  who  appears 
to  you  to  be  the  worst  of  those  who  have  been  brought  up  in 
laws  and  humanities,  would  appear  to  be  a  just  man  and  a  mas- 
ter of  justice  if  he  were  to  be  compared  with  men  who  had  no 
education,  or  courts  of  justice,  or  laws,  or  any  restraints  upon 
them  which  compelled  them  to  practise  virtue — with  the  sav- 
ages, for  example,  whom  the  poet  Pherecrates  exhibited  on  the 
stage  at  the  last  year's  Lenaean  festival.  If  you  were  living 
among  men  such  as  the  man-haters  in  his  Chorus,  you  would 
be  only  too  glad  to  meet  with  Eurybates  and  Phrynondas,  and 
you  would  sorrowfully  desire  the  rascality  of  this  part  of  the 
world.  And  you,  Socrates,  are  discontented,  and  why?  Because 
all  men  are  teachers  of  virtue,  each  one  according  to  his 
ability,  and  you  say  that  there  is  no  teacher.  You  might  as 
well  ask,  Who  teaches  Greek?  For  of  that,  too,  there  will  not 
be  any  teachers  found.     Or  you  might  ask,  Who  is  to  teach 


PROTAGORAS  173 

the  sons  of  our  artisans  this  same  art  which  they  have  learned 
of  their  fathers?  He  and  his  fellow-workmen  have  taught 
them  to  the  best  of  their  ability — but  who  will  carry  them 
further  in  their  arts?  And  you  would  certainly  have  a  diffi- 
culty, Socrates,  in  finding  a  teacher  of  them ;  but  there  would 
be  no  difficulty  in  finding  a  teacher  of  those  who  are  wholly 
ignorant.  And  this  is  true  of  virtue  or  of  anything;  and  if 
a  man  is  better  able  than  we  are  to  promote  virtue  ever  so 
little,  that  is  as  much  as  we  can  expect.  A  teacher  of  this 
sort  I  believe  myself  to  be,  and  above  all  other  men  to  have 
the  knowledge  which  makes  a  man  noble  and  good;  and  I 
give  my  pupils  their  money's  worth,  and  even  more,  as  they 
themselves  confess.  And  therefore  I  have  introduced  the  fol- 
lowing mode  of  payment :  When  a  man  has  been  my  pupil,  if 
he  likes  he  pays  my  price,  but  there  is  no  compulsion;  and  if 
he  does  not  like,  he  has  only  to  go  into  a  temple  and  take  an 
oath  of  the  value  of  the  instructions,  and  he  pays  no  more  than 
he  declares  to  be  their  value. 

Such  is  my  apologue,  Socrates,  and  such  is  the  argument 
by  which  I  endeavor  to  show  that  virtue  may  be  taught,  and 
that  this  is  the  opinion  of  the  Athenians.  And  I  have  also 
attempted  to  show  that  you  are  not  to  wonder  at  good  fathers 
having  bad  sons,  or  at  good  sons  having  bad  fathers,  as  may 
be  seen  in  the  sons  of  Polycleitus,  who  are  of  the  same  age  as 
our  friends  Paralus  and  Xanthippus,  and  who  are  very  inferior 
to  their  father ;  and  this  is  true  of  many  other  artists.  But  I 
ought  not  to  say  the  same  as  yet  of  Paralus  and  Xanthippus 
themselves,  for  they  are  young  and  there  is  still  hope  of 
them. 

Protagoras  ended,  and  in  my  ear — 

"  So  charming  left  his  voice,  that  I  the  while 
Thought  him  still  speaking ;   still  stood  fixed  to  hear.*' 

At  length,  when  I  saw  that  he  had  really  finished,  I  grad- 
ually recovered  consciousness,  and  looking  at  Hippocrates,  I 
said  to  him:  O  son  of  Apollodorus,  how  deeply  grateful  I 
am  to  you  for  having  brought  me  hither;  I  would  not  have 
missed  the  speech  of  Protagoras  for  a  great  deal.  For  I  used 
to  imagine  that  no  human  care  could  make  men  good ;  but  I 
know  better  now.  Yet  I  have  still  one  very  small  difficulty 
which  I  am  sure  that  Protagoras  will  easily  explain,  as  he  has 


174  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

already  explained  so  much.  For  if  a  man  were  to  go  and 
consult  Pericles  or  any  of  our  great  speakers  about  these  mat- 
ters, he  might  perhaps  hear  as  fine  a  discourse;  but  then  if 
anyone  has  a  question  to  ask  of  any  of  them,  like  books,  they 
can  neither  answer  nor  ask ;  and  if  anyone  challenges  the  least 
particular  of  their  speech,  they  go  ringing  on  in  a  long  harangue, 
like  brazen  pots,  which  when  they  are  struck  continue  to  sound 
unless  some  one  puts  his  hand  upon  them ;  whereas  our  friend 
Protagoras  cannot  only  make  a  good  speech,  as  he  has  already 
shown,  but  when  he  is  asked  a  question  he  can  answer  briefly ; 
and  when  he  asks  he  will  wait  and  hear  the  answer ;  and  this 
is  a  very  rare  gift.  Now  I,  Protagoras,  have  a  little  question 
that  I  want  to  ask  of  you,  and  if  you  will  only  answer  me  that, 
I  shall  be  quite  satisfied.  You  were  saying  that  virtue  can 
be  taught;  that  I  will  take  upon  your  authority,  and  there  is 
no  one  to  whom  I  am  more  ready  to  trust.  But  I  marvel  at 
one  thing  about  which  I  should  like  to  have  my  mind  set  at 
rest.  You  were  speaking  of  Zeus  sending  justice  and  rev- 
erence to  men;  and  several  times  while  you  were  speaking, 
justice  and  temperance  and  holiness,  and  all  these  qualities, 
were  described  by  you  as  if  together  they  made  up  virtue. 
Now  I  want  you  to  tell  me  truly  whether  virtue  is  one  whole, 
of  which  justice  and  temperance  and  holiness  are  parts ;  or 
whether  all  these  are  only  the  names  of  one  and  the  same  thing : 
that  is  the  doubt  which  still  lingers  in  my  mind. 

There  is  no  difficulty,  Socrates,  in  answering  that  the  qualities 
of  which  you  are  speaking  are  the  parts  of  virtue,  which  is 
one. 

And  are  they  parts,  I  said,  in  the  same  sense  in  which  mouth, 
nose,  and  eyes,  and  ears  are  the  parts  of  a  face ;  or  are  they 
like  the  parts  of  gold,  which  differ  from  the  whole  and  from 
one  another  only  in  being  larger  or  smaller? 

I  should  say  that  they  differed,  Socrates,  in  the  first  way; 
as  the  parts  of  a  face  are  related  to  the  whole  face. 

And  do  men  have  some  one  part  and  some  another  part  of 
virtue?  Or  if  a  man  has  one  part,  must  he  also  have  all  the 
others  ? 

By  no  means,  he  said ;  for  many  a  man  is  brave  and  not  just, 
or  just  and  not  wise. 

Why  then,  I  said,  courage  and  wisdom  are  also  parts  of 
virtue? 


PROTAGORAS  175 

Most  undoubtedly,  he  said;  and  wisdom  is  the  noblest  of 
the  parts. 

And  they  are  all  different  from  one  another?  I  asked. 

Yes. 

And  each  of  them  has  a  distinct  function  like  the  parts  of 
the  face ;  the  eye,  for  example,  is  not  like  the  ear,  and  has  not 
the  same  functions ;  and  the  other  parts  are  none  of  them  like 
one  another,  either  in  their  functions,  or  in  any  other  way? 
Now  I  want  to  know  whether  the  parts  of  virtue  do  not  also 
differ  in  themselves  and  in  their  functions;  as  that  is  clearly 
what  the  simile  would  imply. 

Yes,  Socrates,  you  are  right  in  that. 

Then,  I  said,  no  part  of  virtue  is  like  knowledge,  or  like 
justice,  or  like  courage,  or  like  temperance,  or  like  holiness. 

No,  he  answered. 

Well  then,  I  said,  suppose  that  you  and  I  inquire  into  their 
natures.  And  first,  you  would  agree  with  me  that  justice  is 
of  the  nature  of  a  thing,  would  you  not  ?  That  is  my  opinion ; 
would  not  that  be  yours  also  ? 

Yes,  he  said,  that  is  mine  also. 

And  suppose  that  someone  were  to  ask  us,  saying,  O  Protag- 
oras, and  you,  Socrates,  what  about  this  thing  which  you  just 
now  called  justice,  is  it  just  or  unjust?  And  I  were  to  an- 
swer just:  and  you — would  you  vote  for  me  or  against  me? 

With  you,  he  said. 

Thereupon  I  should  answer  to  him  who  asked  me,  that  jus- 
tice is  of  the  nature  of  the  just,  would  not  you? 

Yes,  he  said. 

And  suppose  that  he  went  on  to  say :  Well  now,  is  there  such 
a  thing  as  holiness  ? — we  should  answer,  Yes,  if  I  am  not  mis- 
taken ? 

Yes,  he  said. 

And  that  you  acknowledge  to  be  a  thing — should  we  admit 
that? 

He  assented. 

And  is  this  a  sort  of  thing  which  is  of  the  nature  of  the 
holy,  or  of  the  nature  of  the  unholy?  I  should  be  angry  at 
his  putting  such  a  question,  and  should  say,  Peace,  man; 
nothing  can  be  holy  if  holiness  is  not  holy.  What  do  you 
say  to  that  ?    Would  you  not  answer  in  the  same  way  ? 

Certainly,  he  said. 


176  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

And  then  after  this  suppose  that  he  came  and  asked  us, 
What  were  you  saying  just  now?  Perhaps  I  may  not  have 
heard  you  rightly,  but  you  seemed  to  me  to  be  saying  that 
the  parts  of  virtue  were  not  the  same  as  one  another.  I  should 
reply.  You  certainly  heard  that  said,  but  you  did  not,  as 
you  think,  hear  me  say  that ;  for  Protagoras  gave  the  answer, 
and  I  did  but  ask  the  question.  And  suppose  that  he  turned 
to  you  and  said,  Is  this  true,  Protagoras  ?  and  do  you  maintain 
that  one  part  of  virtue  is  unlike  another,  and  is  this  your  posi- 
tion? how  would  you  answer  him? 

I  could  not  help  acknowledging  the  truth  of  what  he  said, 
Socrates. 

Well  then,  Protagoras,  assuming  this,  and  supposing  that 
he  proceeded  to  say  further,  Then  holiness  is  not  of  the  nature 
of  justice,  nor  justice  of  the  nature  of  holiness,  but  of  the 
nature  of  unholiness ;  and  holiness  is  of  the  nature  of  the  not 
just,  and  therefore  of  the  unjust,  and  the  unjust  is  unholy; 
how  shall  we  answer  him?  I  should  certainly  answer  him  on 
my  own  behalf  that  justice  is  holy,  and  that  holiness  is  just; 
and  I  would  say  in  like  manner  on  your  behalf  also,  if  you 
would  allow  me,  that  justice  is  either  the  same  with  holiness,  or 
very  nearly  the  same ;  and  I  would  most  assuredly  say  that 
justice  is  like  holiness  and  holiness  is  like  justice;  and  I  wish 
that  you  would  tell  me  whether  I  may  be  permitted  to  give 
this  answer  on  your  behalf,  and  whether  you  would  agree  with 
me. 

He  replied,  I  cannot  simply  agree,  Socrates,  to  the  proposi- 
tion that  justice  is  holy  and  that  holiness  is  just,  for  there 
appears  to  me  to  be  a  difference  between  them.  But  what 
matter  ?  if  you  please  I  please ;  and  let  us  assume,  if  you  will, 
that  justice  is  holy,  and  that  holiness  is  just. 

Pardon  me,  I  said ;  I  do  not  want  this  "  if  you  wish  "  or  "  if 
you  will  "  sort  of  argument  to  be  proved,  but  I  want  you  and 
me  to  be  proved ;  and  I  mean  by  this  that  the  argument  will  be 
best  proved  if  there  be  no  "  if." 

Well,  he  said,  I  admit  that  justice  bears  a  resemblance  to 
holiness,  for  there  is  always  some  point  of  view  in  which  every- 
thing is  like  every  other  thing;  white  is  in  a  certain  way  like 
black,  and  hard  is  like  soft,  and  the  most  extreme  opposites 
have  some  qualities  in  common ;  even  the  parts  of  the  face, 
which,  as  we  were  saying  before,  are  distinct  and  have  different 


PROTAGORAS  177 

functions,  are  still  in  a  certain  point  of  view  similar,  and  one 
of  them  is  like  another  of  them.  And  you  may  prove  that  they 
are  like  one  another  on  the  same  principle  that  all  things  are 
like  one  another ;  and  yet  things  which  are  alike  in  some  particu- 
lar ought  not  to  be  called  alike,  nor  things  which  are  unlike 
in  some  particular,  however  slight,  unlike. 

And  do  you  think,  I  said  in  a  tone  of  surprise,  that  justice 
and  holiness  have  but  a  small  degree  of  likeness  ? 

Certainly  not,  he  said ;  but  I  do  not  agree  with  what  I  under- 
stand to  be  your  view. 

Well,  I  said,  as  you  appear  to  have  a  difficulty  about  this,  let 
us  take  another  of  the  examples  which  you  have  mentioned, 
instead.     Do  you  admit  the  existence  of  folly? 

I  do. 

And  is  not  wisdom  the  very  opposite  of  folly? 

That  is  true,  he  said. 

And  when  men  act  rightly  and  advantageously  they  seem 
to  you  to  be  temperate  or  moderate  ? 

Yes,  he  said. 

And  moderation  makes  them  moderate? 

Certainly. 

And  they  who  do  not  act  rightly  act  foolishly,  and  in  thus 
acting  are  not  moderate? 

I  agree  to  that,  he  said. 

Then  to  act  foolishly  is  the  opposite  of  acting  moderately  ? 

He  assented. 

And  foolish  actions  are  done  by  folly,  and  moderate  or  tem- 
perate actions  by  moderation? 

He  agreed. 

And  that  is  done  strongly  which  is  done  by  strength,  and 
weakly  which  is  done  by  weakness? 

He  assented. 

And  that  which  is  done  with  swiftness  is  done  swiftly,  ?nd 
that  which  is  done  with  slowness,  slowly? 

He  acknowledged  that. 

And  if  anything  is  done  in  the  same  way,  that  is  done  by 
the  same ;  and  if  anything  is  done  in  an  opposite  way,  by  the 
opposite  ? 

He  agreed. 

Once  more,  I  said,  is  there  anything  beautiful  ? 

Yes. 

la 


178  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

To  which  the  only  opposite  is  the  ugly? 

There  is  no  other. 

And  is  there  anything  good? 

There  is. 

To  which  the  only  opposite  is  the  evil? 

There  is  no  other. 

And  there  is  the  acute  in  sound  ? 

True. 

To  which  the  only  opposite  is  the  grave? 

There  is  no  other,  he  said,  but  that. 

Then  every  opposite  has  one  opposite  only  and  no  more? 

He  assented. 

Then  now,  I  said,  let  us  recapitulate  our  admissions.  First 
of  all  we  admitted  that  everything  has  one  opposite  and  not 
more  than  one? 

To  that  we  assented. 

And  we  admitted  also  that  what  was  done  in  opposite  ways 
was  done  by  opposites  ? 

Yes. 

And  that  which  was  done  foolishly,  as  we  also  admitted,  was 
done  in  the  opposite  way  to  that  which  was  done  moderately  ? 

Yes. 

And  that  which  was  done  moderately  was  done  by  modera- 
tion or  temperance,  and  that  which  was  done  foolishly  by  folly  ? 

He  agreed. 

And  that  which  was  done  in  opposite  ways  is  done  by  oppo- 
sites ? 

Yes. 

And  one  thing  is  done  by  moderation  or  temperance,  and 
quite  another  thing  by  folly? 

Yes. 

And  those  are  opposite  ways? 

Certainly. 

And  therefore  done  by  opposites.  Then  folly  is  the  opposite 
of  moderation  or  temperance? 

That  is  evident. 

And  do  you  remember  that  folly  has  already  been  acknowl- 
edged by  us  to  be  the  opposite  of  wisdom  ? 

He  assented. 

And  we  said  that  everything  has  only  one  opposite? 

Yes. 


PROTAGORAS  1 79 

Then,  Protagoras,  which  of  the  two  assertions  shall  we  re- 
nounce ?  One  says  that  everything  has  but  one  opposite ;  the 
other  that  wisdom  is  distinct  from  temperance  or  moderation, 
and  that  both  of  them  are  parts  of  virtue ;  and  that  they  are  not 
only  distinct,  but  unlike,  both  in  themselves  and  in  their  func- 
tions, like  the  parts  of  a  face.  Which  of  these  two  assertions 
shall  we  renounce?  For  both  of  them  together  are  certainly 
not  in  harmony;  they  do  not  accord  or  agree:  for  how  can 
they  be  said  to  agree  if  everything  is  assumed  to  have  only  one 
opposite  and  not  more  than  one,  and  yet  folly,  which  is  one, 
has  clearly  the  two  opposites — wisdom  and  temperance?  Is 
not  that  true,  Protagoras  ?    I  said.    What  else  would  you  say  ? 

He  assented,  but  with  great  reluctance. 

Then  temperance  and  wisdom  are  the  same,  as  before  justice 
and  holiness  appeared  to  us  to  be  nearly  the  same.  And  now, 
Protagoras,  I  said,  do  not  let  us  be  faint-hearted,  but  let  us  com- 
plete what  remains.  Do  you  think  that  an  unjust  man  can  be 
temperate  in  his  injustice  ? 

I  should  be  ashamed,  Socrates,  he  said,  to  acknowledge  this, 
which  nevertheless  many  may  be  found  to  assert. 

And  shall  I  argue  with  them  or  with  you  ?  I  replied. 

I  would  rather,  he  said,  that  you  should  argue  with  the  many 
first,  if  you  will. 

Whichever  you  please,  if  you  will  only  answer  me  and  say 
whether  you  are  of  their  opinion  or  not.  My  object  is  to  test 
the  validity  of  the  argument ;  and  yet  the  result  may  be  that  I 
and  you  who  ask  and  answer  may  also  be  put  on  our  trial. 

Protagoras  at  first  made  a  show  of  refusing,  as  he  said  that 
the  argument  was  not  encouraging;  at  length,  however,  he 
consented  to  answer. 

Now  then,  I  said,  begin  at  the  beginning  and  answer  me. 
You  think  that  some  men  are  moderate  or  temperate,  and  yet 
unjust  ? 

Yes,  he  said  ;  let  that  be  admitted. 

And  moderation  is  good  sense? 

Yes. 

And  good  sense  is  good  counsel  in  doing  injustice? 

Granted. 

If  they  succeed,  I  said,  or  if  they  don't  succeed? 

If  they  succeed. 

And  you  would  admit  the  existence  of  goods  ? 


i8o  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

Yes. 

And  is  the  good  that  which  is  expedient  for  man  ? 

Yes,  indeed,  he  said ;  and  there  are  some  things  which  may 
be  inexpedient,  and  yet  I  call  them  good. 

I  thought  that  Protagoras  was  getting  ruffled  and  excited ; 
he  seemed  to  be  setting  himself  in  an  attitude  of  war.  Seeing 
this,  I  minded  my  business  and  gently  said : — 

When  you  say,  Protagoras,  that  things  inexpedient  are  good, 
do  you  mean  inexpedient  for  man  only,  or  inexpedient  alto- 
gether ?  and  do  you  call  the  latter  good  ? 

Certainly  not  the  last,  he  replied  ;  for  I  know  of  many  things, 
meats,  drinks,  medicines,  and  ten  thousand  other  things,  which 
are  partly  expedient  for  man,  and  partly  inexpedient;  and 
some  which  are  expedient  for  horses,  and  not  for  men ;  and 
some  for  oxen  only,  and  some  for  dogs ;  and  some  for  no 
animals,  but  only  for  trees;  and  some  for  the  roots  of  trees 
and  not  for  their  branches,  as  for  example,  manure,  which  is  a 
good  thing  when  laid  about  the  roots,  but  utterly  destructive  if 
thrown  upon  the  shoots  and  young  branches ;  or  I  may  in- 
stance olive-oil,  which  is  mischievous  to  all  plants,  and  generally 
most  injurious  to  the  hair  of  every  animal  with  the  exception  of 
man,  but  beneficial  to  human  hair  and  to  the  human  body  gen- 
erally ;  and  even  in  this  application  (so  various  and  changeable 
is  the  nature  of  the  benefit)  that  which  is  the  greatest  good 
to  the  outward  parts  of  a  man  is  a  very  great  evil  to  his  inward 
parts :  and  for  this  reason  physicians  always  forbid  their  pa- 
tients the  use  of  oil  in  their  food,  except  in  very  small  quantities, 
just  sufficient  to  take  away  the  disagreeable  sensation  of  smell 
in  meats  and  sauces. 

When  he  had  given  this  answer,  the  company  cheered  him. 
And  I  said :  Protagoras,  I  have  a  wretched  memory,  and  when 
any  one  makes  a  long  speech  to  me  I  never  remember  what  he 
is  talking  about.  As  then,  if  I  had  been  deaf,  and  you  were 
going  to  converse  with  me,  you  would  have  had  to  raise  your 
voice ;  so  now,  having  such  a  bad  memory,  I  will  ask  you  to 
cut  your  answers  shorter,  if  you  would  take  me  with  you. 

What  do  you  mean  ?  he  said :  how  am  I  to  shorten  my  an- 
swers ?  shall  I  make  them  too  short  ? 

Certainly  not,  I  said.  * 

But  short  enough  ?  he  said. 

Yes,  I  said. 


PROTAGORAS  i8i 

Shall  I  answer  what  appears  to  me  to  be  short  enough,  or 
what  appears  to  you  to  be  short  enough  ? 

I  have  heard,  I  said,  that  you  can  speak  and  teach  others  to 
speak  about  the  same  things  at  such  length  that  words  never 
seemed  to  fail,  or  with  such  brevity  that  no  one  could  use  fewer 
of  them.  Please  therefore,  if  you  talk  with  me,  to  adopt  the 
latter  or  more  compendious  method. 

Socrates,  he  replied,  many  a  battle  of  words  have  I  fought, 
and  if  I  had  followed  the  method  of  disputation  which  my  ad- 
versaries desired,  as  you  want  me  to  do,  I  should  have  been  no 
better  than  another,  and  the  name  of  Protagoras  would  have 
been  nowhere. 

I  saw  that  he  was  not  satisfied  with  his  previous  answers, 
and  that  he  would  not  play  the  part  of  answerer  any  more  if 
he  could  help  ;  and  I  considered  that  there  was  no  call  upon  me 
to  continue  the  conversation ;  so  I  said :  Protagoras,  I  don't 
wish  to  force  the  conversation  upon  you  if  you  had  rather  not, 
but  when  you  are  willing  to  argue  with  me  in  such  a  way  that  I 
can  follow  you,  then  I  will  argue  with  you.  Now  you,  as  is 
said  of  you  by  others  and  as  you  say  of  yourself,  are  able  to  have 
discussions  in  shorter  forms  of  speech  as  well  as  in  longer,  for 
you  are  a  master  of  wisdom ;  but  I  cannot  manage  these  long 
speeches :  I  only  wish  that  I  could.  You,  on  the  other  hand, 
who  are  capable  of  either,  ought  to  speak  shorter,  as  I  beg  you, 
and  then  we  might  converse.  But  I  see  that  you  are  disin- 
clined, and  as  I  have  an  engagement  which  will  prevent  my 
staying  to  hear  you  at  length  (for  I  have  to  be  in  another  place), 
I  will  depart,  although  I  should  have  liked  to  hear  you. 

Thus  I  spoke,  and  was  rising  from  my  seat,  when  Callias 
seized  me  by  the  hand,  and  in  his  left  hand  caught  hold  of  this 
old  cloak  of  mine.  He  said :  We  cannot  let  you  go,  Socrates, 
for  if  you  leave  us  there  will  be  an  end  of  our  discussions :  I 
must  therefore  beg  you  to  remain,  as  there  is  nothing  in  the 
world  that  I  should  like  better  than  to  hear  you  and  Protagoras 
discourse.    Do  not  deny  the  company  this  pleasure. 

Now  I  had  got  up,  and  was  in  the  act  of  departure.  Son  of 
Hipponicus,  I  replied,  I  have  always  admired,  and  do  now 
heartily  applaud  and  love  your  philosophical  spirit,  and  I  would 
gladly  comply  with  your  request,  if  I  could.  But  the  truth  is 
that  I  cannot.  And  what  you  ask  is  as  great  an  impossibility  to 
me  as  if  you  bade  me  run  a  race  with  Crison  of  Hiraera,  when 


1 82  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

in  his  prime,  or  with  some  one  of  the  long  or  day  course  run- 
ners. To  that  I  should  reply,  that  I  humbly  make  the  same  re- 
quest to  my  own  legs ;  and  they  can't  comply.  And  therefore  if 
you  want  to  see  Crison  and  me  in  the  same  stadium,  you  must 
bid  him  slacken  his  speed  to  mine,  for  I  cannot  run  quickly,  and 
he  can  run  slowly.  And  in  like  manner  if  you  want  to  hear  me 
and  Protagoras  discoursing,  you  must  ask  him  to  shorten  his 
answers,  and  keep  to  the  point,  as  he  did  at  first ;  if  not,  how 
can  there  be  any  discussion  ?  For  discussion  is  one  thing,  and 
making  an  oration  is  quite  another,  according  to  my  way  of 
thinking. 

But  you  see,  Socrates,  said  Callias,  that  Protagoras  may 
fairly  claim  to  speak  in  his  own  way,  just  as  you  claim  to  speak 
in  yours. 

Here  Alcibiades  interposed,  and  said:  That,  Callias,  is  not 
a  fair  statement  of  the  case.  For  our  friend  Socrates  admits 
that  he  cannot  make  a  speech — in  this  he  yields  the  palm  to 
Protagoras ;  but  I  should  be  greatly  surprised  if  he  yielded  to 
any  living  man  in  the  power  of  holding  and  apprehending  an 
argument.  Now  if  Protagoras  will  make  a  similar  admission, 
and  confess  that  he  is  inferior  to  Socrates  in  argumentative 
skill,  that  is  enough  for  Socrates  :  but  if  he  claims  a  superiority 
in  argument  as  well,  let  him  ask  and  answer — not,  when  a  ques- 
tion is  asked,  having  recourse  to  shifts  and  evasions,  and,  in- 
stead of  answering,  making  a  speech  at  such  length  that  most 
of  his  hearers  forget  the  question  at  issue  (not  that  Socrates  is 
likely  to  forget — I  will  be  bound  for  that,  although  he  may  pre- 
tend in  fun  that  he  has  a  bad  memory).  And  Socrates  appears 
to  me  more  in  the  right  than  Protagoras ;  that  is  my  opinion, 
and  every  man  ought  to  say  what  he  thinks. 

When  Alcibiades  had  done  speaking,  some  one — Critias,  I 
believe — went  on  to  say :  O  Prodicus  and  Hippias,  Callias  ap- 
pears to  me  to  be  a  partisan  of  Protagoras.  And  this  led  Alci- 
biades, who  loves  opposition,  to  take  the  other  side.  But  we 
should  not  be  partisans  either  of  Socrates  or  Protagoras ;  let  us 
rather  unite  in  entreating  both  of  them  not  to  break  up  the  dis- 
cussion. 

Prodicus  added :  That,  Critias,  seems  to  me  to  be  well  said, 
for  those  who  are  present  at  such  discussions  ought  to  be  im- 
partial hearers  of  both  the  speakers ;  remembering,  however, 
that  impartiality  is  not  the  same  as  equality,  for  both  sides 


PROTAGORAS  183 

should  be  impartially  heard,  and  yet  an  equal  meed  should  not 
be  assigned  to  both  of  them ;  but  to  the  wiser  a  higher  meed 
should  be  given,  and  a  lower  to  the  less  wise.  And  I  as  well  as 
Critias  would  beg  you,  Protagoras  and  Socrates,  to  grant  our 
request,  which  is  that  you  will  argue  with  one  another  and  not 
wrangle ;  for  friends  argue  with  friends  out  of  good-will,  but 
only  adversaries  and  enemies  wrangle.  And  then  our  meeting 
will  be  delightful ;  for  in  this  way  you,  who  are  the  speakers, 
will  be  most  likely  to  win  esteem,  and  not  praise  only,  among  us 
who  are  your  audience ;  for  esteem  is  a  sincere  conviction  of  the 
hearers'  souls,  but  praise  is  often  an  insincere  expression  of  men 
uttering  words  contrary  to  their  conviction.  And  thus  we  who 
are  the  hearers  will  be  gratified  and  not  pleased ;  for  gratifica- 
tion is  of  the  mind  when  receiving  wisdom  and  knowledge,  but 
pleasure  is  of  the  body  when  eating  or  experiencing  some  other 
bodily  delight.  Thus  spoke  Prodicus,  and  many  of  the  com- 
pany applauded  his  words. 

Hippias  the  sage  spoke  next.  He  said :  All  of  you  who  are 
here  present  I  reckon  to  be  kinsmen  and  friends  and  fellow 
citizens,  by  nature  and  not  by  law ;  for  by  nature  like  is  akin  to 
like,  whereas  law  is  the  tyrant  of  mankind,  and  often  compels 
us  to  do  many  things  which  are  against  nature.  How  great 
would  be  the  disgrace  then,  if  we,  who  know  the  nature  of 
things,  and  are  the  wisest  of  the  Hellenes,  and  as  such  are  met 
together  in  this  city,  which  is  the  metropolis  of  wisdom,  and  in 
the  greatest  and  most  glorious  house  of  this  city,  should  have 
nothing  to  show  worthy  of  this  height  of  dignity,  but  should 
only  quarrel  with  one  another  like  the  meanest  of  mankind.  I 
do  pray  and  advise  you,  Protagoras,  and  you,  Socrates,  to 
agree  upon  a  compromise.  Let  us  be  your  peace-makers.  And 
do  not  you,  Socrates,  aim  at  this  precise  and  extreme  brevity  in 
discourse,  if  Protagoras  objects,  but  loosen  and  let  go  the  reins 
of  speech,  that  your  words  may  be  grander  and  become  you  * 
better.  Neither  do  you,  Protagoras,  go  forth  on  the  gale  with 
every  sail  set  out  of  sight  of  land  into  an  ocean  of  words,  but  let 
there  be  a  mean  observed  by  both  of  you.  Do  as  I  say.  And 
let  me  also  suggest  and  suppose  further  that  you  choose  an  ar- 
biter or  overseer  or  president ;  he  will  keep  watch  over  your 
words  and  reduce  them  to  their  proper  length. 

This  proposal  was  received  by  the  company  with  universal 
*  Reading  viuv. 


1 84  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

approval ;  and  Callias  said  that  he  would  not  let  me  off,  and  that 
I  was  to  choose  an  arbiter.  But  I  said  that  to  choose  an  umpire 
of  discourse  would  be  unseemly ;  for  if  the  person  chosen  was 
inferior,  then  the  inferior  or  worse  ought  not  to  preside  over 
the  better ;  or  if  he  was  equal,  neither  would  that  be  well ;  for 
he  who  is  our  equal  will  do  as  we  do,  and  what  will  be  the  use 
of  choosing  him  ?  And  if  you  say  "  Let  us  have  a  better  then," 
to  that  I  answer  that  you  cannot  have  any  one  who  is  wiser  than 
Protagoras.  And  if  you  choose  another  who  is  not  really  bet- 
ter, and  whom  you  only  say  is  better,  to  put  another  over  him 
as  though  he  were  an  inferior  person  would  be  an  unworthy 
reflection  on  him ;  not  that,  as  far  as  I  am  concerned,  any  re- 
flection is  of  much  consequence  to  me.  Let  me  tell  you  then 
what  I  will  do  in  order  that  the  conversation  and  discussion  may 
go  on  as  you  desire.  If  Protagoras  is  not  disposed  to  answer, 
let  him  ask  and  I  will  answer ;  and  I  will  endeavor  to  show  at 
the  same  time  how,  as  I  maintain,  he  ought  to  answer:  and 
when  I  have  answered  as  many  questions  as  he  likes  to  ask,  let 
him  in  like  manner  answer;  and  if  he  seems  to  be  not  very 
ready  at  answering  the  exact  questions,  you  and  I  will  unite  in 
entreating  him,  as  you  entreated  me,  not  to  spoil  the  discussion. 
And  this  will  require  no  special  arbiter :  you  shall  all  of  you  be 
arbiters. 

This  was  generally  approved,  and  Protagoras,  though  very 
much  against  his  will,  was  obliged  to  a.gree  that  he  would  ask 
questions ;  and  when  he  had  put  a  sufficient  number  of  them, 
that  he  would  answer  in  his  turn  those  which  he  was  asked,  in 
short  replies.    He  began  to  put  his  questions  as  follows : — 

I  am  of  opinion,  Socrates,  he  said,  that  skill  in  poetry  is  the 
principal  part  of  education  ;  and  this  I  conceive  to  be  the  power 
of  knowing  what  composition  of  the  poets  are  correct,  and  what 
are  not,  and  how  they  are  to  be  distinguished,  and  of  explaining 
them  when  asked.  And  I  propose  to  transfer  the  question 
which  you  and  I  have  been  discussing  to  the  domain  of  poetry, 
speaking  as  before  of  virtue,  but  in  reference  to  a  passage  of  a 
poet.  Now  Simonides  says  to  Scopas  the  son  of  Creon  the 
Thessalian : — 

"  Hardly  on  the  one  hand  can  a  man  become  truly  good ;  built  four- 
square in  hands  and  feet  and  mind,  a  work  without  a  flaw." 

Do  you  know  the  poem  ?  or  shall  I  repeat  the  whole  ? 


PROTAGORAS  185 

There  is  no  need,  I  said ;  for  I  am  perfectly  well  acquainted 
with  the  ode,  of  which  I  have  made  a  careful  study. 

Very  good,  he  said.  And  do  you  think  that  the  ode  is  a  good 
composition,  and  true? 

Yes,  I  said,  both  good  and  true. 

But  if  there  is  a  contradiction,  can  the  composition  be  good 
or  true  ? 

No,  not  in  that  case,  I  replied. 

And  is  there  not  a  contradiction  ?  he  asked.    Reflect. 

Well,  my  friend,  I  have  reflected. 

And  does  not  the  poet  proceed  to  say,  "  I  do  not  agree  with 
the  word  of  Pittacus,  albeit  the  utterance  of  a  wise  man ; 
hardly,"  says  he,  "  can  a  man  be  good."  Now  you  will  observe 
that  this  is  said  by  the  same  poet. 

I  know  that,  I  said. 

And  do  you  think,  he  said,  that  the  two  sayings  are  consist- 
ent? 

Yes,  I  said,  I  think  they  are  (at  the  same  time  I  could  not 
help  fearing  that  there  might  be  something  in  what  he  said). 
And  you  think  otherwise  ?  I  said. 

Why,  he  said,  how  can  he  be  consistent  in  saying  both? 
First  of  all,  premising  as  his  own  thought,  "  Hardly  can  a  man 
become  truly  good  " ;  and  then  a  little  further  on  in  the  poem, 
forgetting,  and  blaming  Pittacus  and  refusing  to  agree  with 
him,  when  he  says,  "  Hardly  can  a  man  be  good,"  which  is  the 
very  same  thing.  And  yet  when  he  blames  him  who  says  the 
same  with  himself,  he  blames  himself;  so  that  he  must  be 
wrong  either  in  his  first  or  his  second  assertion. 

Many  of  the  audience  cheered  and  applauded  this.  And  I 
felt  at  first  giddy  and  faint,  as  if  I  had  received  a  blow  from  the 
expert  hand  of  a  boxer,  when  I  heard  his  words  and  the  sound 
of  the  cheering ;  and  to  confess  the  truth,  I  wanted  to  get  time 
to  think  what  the  meaning  of  the  poet  really  was.  So  I  turned 
to  Prodicus  and  called  him.  Prodicus,  I  said,  Simonides  is  a 
countryman  of  yours,  and  you  ought  to  come  to  his  rescue.  I 
think  that  I  must  summon  you  to  my  aid,  like  the  river  Sca- 
mander  in  Homer,  who,  when  beleaguered  by  Achilles,  asks 
Simois  to  aid  him,  saying : — 

**  Brother  dear,  let  us  both  together  stay  the  force  of  the  hero."* 
*  II.  xxi.  308. 


1 86  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

And  I  summon  you,  for  I  am  afraid  that  Protagoras  will  make 
an  end  of  Simonides.  Now  is  the  time  to  rehabilitate  Simoni- 
des,  by  the  application  of  your  charming  philosophy  of  syno- 
nyms, which  distinguishes  "  will  "  and  "  wish,"  and  many  sim- 
ilar words  which  you  mentioned  in  your  admirable  speech. 
And  I  should  like  to  know  whether  you  would  agree  with  me ; 
for  I  am  of  opinion  that  there  is  no  contradiction  in  the  words  of 
Simonides.  And  first  of  all  I  wish  that  you  would  say  whether, 
in  your  opinion,  Prodicus,  "  being  "  is  the  same  as  "  becoming." 

Not  the  same,  certainly,  replied  Prodicus. 

Did  not  Simonides  first  set  forth,  as  his  own  view,  that 
"  Hardly  can  a  man  become  truly  good  "  ? 

Quite  right,  said  Prodicus. 

And  then  he  blames  Pittacus,  I  said,  not  for  saying  the  same 
as  himself,  as  Protagoras  imagines,  but  for  saying  something 
different;  for  Pittacus  does  not  say,  as  Simonides  says,  that 
hardly  can  a  man  become  good,  but  hardly  can  a  man  be  good : 
and  our  friend  Prodicus  says  that  being,  Protagoras,  is  not  the 
same  as  becoming;  and  if  they  are  not  the  same,  then  Simoni- 
des is  not  inconsistent  with  himself.  I  dare  say  that  Prodicus 
and  many  others  would  say,  as  Hesiod  says,  "  Hardly  can  a 
man  become  good,  for  the  gods  have  placed  toil  in  front  of 
virtue ;  but  when  you  have  reached  the  goal,  then  the  acquisi- 
tion of  virtue,  however  diflficult,  is  easy."  * 

Prodicus  heard  and  approved ;  but  Protagoras  said :  Your 
correction,  Socrates,  involves  a  greater  error  than  is  contained 
in  the  sentence  which  you  are  correcting. 

Alas !  I  said,  Protagoras ;  then  I  am  a  sorry  physician,  and 
do  but  aggravate  a  disorder  which  I  am  seeking  to  cure. 

The  fact,  he  said,  is  as  I  have  stated. 

How  is  that?  I  asked. 

The  poet,  he  replied,  could  never  have  made  such  a  mistake 
as  to  say  that  virtue,  which  in  the  opinion  of  all  men  is  the  hard- 
est of  all  things,  can  be  easily  acquired. 

Well,  I  said,  and  how  fortunate  this  is  that  Prodicus  should 
be  of  the  company,  for  he  has  a  wisdom,  Protagoras,  which,  as 
I  imagine,  is  more  than  human  and  of  very  ancient  date,  and 
may  be  as  old  as  Simonides,  or  even  older.  Learned  as  you  are 
in  many  things,  you  appear  to  know  nothing  of  this;  but  I 
know,  for  I  am  a  disciple  of  his.  And  now,  if  I  am  not  mistaken, 
*  "  Works  and  Days,"  264  folL 


PROTAGORAS  187 

you  do  not  understand  the  word  "  hard  "  ( ;\;a\67roi/)  in  the 
sense  which  Simonides  intended ;  and  I  must  correct  you,  as 
Prodicus  corrects  me  when  I  use  the  word  "  dreadful  "  {Setvo^) 
as  a  term  of  praise.  If  I  say  that  Protagoras  is  a  dreadfully 
wise  man,  he  asks  me  if  I  am  not  ashamed  of  calling  that  which 
is  good  dreadful ;  and  then  he  explains  to  me  that  the  term 
"  dreadful  "  is  always  taken  in  a  bad  sense,  and  that  no  one 
speaks  of  being  dreadfully  healthy  or  wealthy  or  wise,  but  of 
dreadful  war,  dreadful  poverty,  dreadful  disease,  meaning  by 
the  term  "  dreadful,"  evil.  And  I  think  that  Simonides  and  his 
countrymen  the  Ceans,  when  they  spoke  of  "  hard,"  meant 
"  evil,"  or  something  which  you  do  not  understand.  Let  us  ask 
Prodicus,  for  he  ought  to  be  able  to  answer  questions  about 
the  dialect  of  Simonides.  What  did  he  mean,  Prodicus,  by  the 
term  "hard"? 

Evil,  said  Prodicus. 

And  therefore,  I  said,  Prodicus,  he  blames  Pittacus  for  say- 
mg,  "  Hard  is  the  good,"  just  as  if  that  were  equivalent  to  say- 
ing, Evil  is  the  good. 

Yes,  he  said,  that  was  certainly  his  meaning;  and  he  is 
twitting  Pittacus  with  ignorance  of  the  use  of  terms,  which  in 
a  Lesbian,  who  has  been  accustomed  to  speak  a  barbarous 
language,  is  natural. 

Do  you  hear,  Protagoras,  I  asked,  what  our  friend  Prodicus 
is  saying?    And  have  you  an  answer  for  him? 

You  are  all  wrong,  Prodicus,  said  Protagoras ;  and  I  know 
very  well  that  Simonides  in  using  the  word  "  hard  "  meant  what 
all  of  us  mean,  not  evil,  but  that  which  is  not  easy — that  which 
takes  a  great  deal  of  trouble.    Of  this  I  am  positive. 

I  said :  I  also  incline  to  think,  Protagoras,  that  this  was  the 
meaning  of  Simonides,  and  that  our  friend  Prodicus  was  quite 
aware  of  this,  but  he  thought  that  he  would  make  fun,  and  try 
if  you  could  maintain  your  thesis ;  for  that  Simonides  could 
never  have  meant  the  other  is  clearly  proved  by  the  context,  in 
which  he  says  that  God  only  has  this  gift.  Now  he  cannot 
surely  mean  to  say  that  to  be  good  is  evil,  when  he  afterward 
proceeds  to  say  that  God  only  has  this  gift,  and  that  this  is  the 
attribute  of  him  and  of  no  other.  For  if  this  be  his  meaning, 
Prodicus  would  impute  to  Simonides  a  character  of  reckless- 
ness which  is  very  unlike  his  countrymen.  And  I  should  like  to 
tell  you,  I  said,  what  I  imagine  to  be  the  real  meaning  of  Si- 


l88  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

monides  in  this  poem,  if  you  will  test  what,  in  your  way  of 
speaking,  would  be  called  my  skill  in  poetry ;  or  if  you  would 
rather,  I  will  be  the  listener. 

Protagoras,  hearing  me  offer  this,  replied :  As  you  please ; 
and  Hippias,  Prodicus,  and  the  others  told  me  by  all  means  to 
do  as  I  proposed. 

Then  now,  I  said,  I  will  endeavor  to  explain  to  you  my  opin- 
ion about  this  poem.  There  is  a  very  ancient  philosophy  which 
is  more  cultivated  in  Crete  and  Lacedsemon  than  in  any  other 
part  of  Hellas,  and  there  are  more  philosophers  in  those  coun- 
tries than  anywhere  else  in  the  world.  This,  however,  is  a 
secret  which  the  Lacedaemonians  deny ;  and  they  pretend  to  be 
ignorant,  just  because  they  do  not  wish  to  have  it  thought  that 
they  rule  the  world  by  wisdom,  like  the  Sophists  of  whom 
Protagoras  was  speaking,  and  not  by  valor  of  arms ;  consider- 
ing that  if  the  reason  of  their  superiority  were  disclosed,  all  men 
would  be  practising  their  wisdom.  And  this  secret  of  theirs  has 
never  been  discovered  by  the  imitators  of  Lacedaemonian  fash- 
ions in  other  cities,  who  go  about  with  their  ears  bruised  in  imi- 
tation of  them,  and  have  the  cestus  bound  on  their  arms,  and 
are  always  in  training,  and  wear  short  cloaks ;  for  they  im- 
agine that  these  are  the  practises  which  have  enabled  the  Lace- 
daemonians to  conquer  the  other  Hellenes.  Now  when  the 
Lacedaemonians  want  to  unbend  and  hold  free  conversation 
with  their  wise  men,  and  are  no  longer  satisfied  with  mere  secret 
intercourse,  they  drive  out  all  these  Laconizers,  and  any  other 
foreigners  who  may  happen  to  be  in  their  country,  and  they 
hold  a  philosophical  seance  unknown  to  the  strangers ;  and 
they  themselves  forbid  their  young  men  to  go  out  into  other 
cities  (in  this  they  are  like  the  Cretans),  in  order  that  they  may 
not  unlearn  the  lessons  which  they  have  taught  them.  And  in 
these  cities  not  only  men  but  also  women  have  a  pride  in  their 
high  cultivation.  And  you  may  know  that  I  am  only  speaking 
the  truth  in  attributing  this  excellence  in  philosophy  to  the 
Lacedaemonians,  by  this  token :  If  a  man  converses  with  the 
most  ordinary  Lacedaemonian,  he  will  find  him  seldom  good 
for  much  in  general  conversation,  but  at  any  point  in  the  dis- 
course he  will  be  darting  out  some  notable  saying,  terse  and  full 
of  meaning,  with  unerring  aim  :  and  the  person  with  whom  he 
is  talking  seems  to  be  like  a  child  in  his  hands.  Any  many  of 
our  own  age  and  of  former  ages  have  noted  that  the  true  Lace- 


PROTAGORAS  189 

daemonian  type  of  character  has  the  love  of  philosophy  even 
stronger  than  the  love  of  gymnastics ;  they  are  conscious  that 
only  a  perfectly  educated  man  is  capable  of  uttering  such  ex- 
pressions. Such  were  Thales  of  Miletus,  and  Pittacus  of  Myti- 
lene,  and  Bias  of  Priene,  and  our  own  Solon,  and  Cleobulus 
the  Lindian,  and  Myson  the  Chenian ;  and  seventh  in  the  cata- 
logue of  wise  men  was  the  Lacedaemonian  Chilo.  All  these  were 
lovers  and  emulators  and  disciples  of  the  culture  of  the  Lace- 
daemonians, and  anyone  may  perceive  that  their  wisdom  was  of 
this  character,  consisting  of  short,  memorable  sentences,  which 
individuals  uttered.  And  they  met  together  and  dedicated  in 
the  temple  of  Apollo  at  Delphi,  as  the  first-fruits  of  their  wis- 
dom, the  far-famed  inscriptions,  which  are  in  all  men's  mouths, 
"  Know  thyself  "  and  "  Nothing  too  much." 

Why  do  I  say  all  this  ?  I  am  explaining  that  this  Lacedae- 
monian brevity  was  the  style  of  primitive  philosophy.  Now 
there  was  a  saying  of  Pittacus  which  was  privately  circulated 
and  received  the  approbation  of  the  wise,  "  Hard  to  be  good." 
And  Simonides,  who  was  ambitious  of  the  fame  of  wisdom,  was 
aware  that  if  he  could  overthrow  this  saying,  then,  as  if  he  had 
won  a  victory  over  some  famous  athlete,  he  would  carry  off  the 
palm  among  his  contemporaries.  And  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  he 
composed  the  entire  poem  with  the  secret  intention  of  damag- 
ing that  saying. 

Let  us  all  unite  in  examining  his  words,  and  see  whether  I 
am  speaking  the  truth.  Simonides  must  have  been  a  lunatic, 
if,  in  the  very  first  words  of  the  poem,  wanting  to  say  only  that 
to  be  good  is  hard,  he  inserted  ^lev,  "  on  the  one  hand  "  (on  the 
one  hand  to  become  good  is  hard)  ;  there  would  be  no  possible 
reason  for  the  introduction  of  [lev,  unless  you  suppose  him  to 
speak  with  a  hostile  reference  to  the  words  of  Pittacus.  Pit- 
tacus is  saying  "  Hard  to  be  good,"  and  he  says,  controverting 
this,  "  No,  the  truly  hard  thing,  Pittacus,  is  to  become  good," 
not  joining  "  truly  "  with  "  good,"  but  with  "  hard."  Not  the 
hard  thing  is  to  be  truly  good,  as  though  there  were  some  truly 
good  men,  and  there  were  others  who  were  good  but  not  truly 
good  (that  would  be  a  very  simple  observation,  and  quite  un- 
worthy of  Simonides) ;  but  you  must  suppose  him  to  make  a 
trajection  of  the  word  (aXa^ewf),  construing  the  saying  of  Pit- 
tacus thus  (and  let  us  imagine  Pittacus  to  be  speaking  and 
Simonides  answering  him) :   "  O  my  friends,"  says  Pittacus, 


xpo 


DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 


"  hard  to  be  good,"  and  Simonides  answers,  "  In  that,  Pittacus, 
you  are  mistaken ;  the  difficulty  is  not  to  be  good,  but  on  the 
one  hand  to  become  good,  four-square  in  hands  and  feet  and 
mind,  without  a  flaw — that  is  hard  truly."  This  way  of  read- 
ing the  passage  accounts  for  the  insertion  of  (fiev)  "  on  the  one 
hand,"  and  for  the  use  of  the  word  "  truly,"  which  is  rightly 
placed  at  the  end ;  and  all  that  follows  tends  to  prove  that  this 
is  the  meaning.  A  great  deal  might  be  said  in  praise  of  the  de- 
tails of  the  poem,  which  is  a  charming  piece  of  workmanship, 
and  very  finished,  but  that  would  be  tedious.  I  should  like, 
however,  to  point  out  the  general  intention  of  the  poem,  which 
is  certainly  designed  in  every  part  to  be  a  refutation  of  the  say- 
ing of  Pittacus.  For  he  speaks  in  what  follows  a  little  further 
on  as  if  he  meant  to  argue  that  although  there  is  a  difficulty  in 
becoming  good,  yet  this  is  possible  for  a  time,  and  only  for  a 
time.  But  having  become  good,  to  remain  in  a  good  state  and 
be  good,  as  you,  Pittacus,  affirm,  that  is  not  possible,  and  is  not 
granted  to  man  ;  God  only  has  this  blessing ;  "  but  man  cannot 
help  being  bad  when  the  force  of  circumstances  overpowers 
him."  Now  whom  does  the  force  of  circumstances  overpower 
in  the  command  of  a  vessel? — not  the  private  individual,  for  he 
is  always  overpowered ;  and  as  one  who  is  already  prostrate 
cannot  be  overthrown,  but  only  he  who  is  standing  upright  and 
not  he  who  is  prostrate  can  be  laid  prostrate,  so  the  force  of  cir- 
cumstances can  only  be  said  to  overpower  him  who  has  re- 
sources, and  not  him  who  is  at  all  times  helpless.  The  descent  of 
a  great  storm  may  make  the  pilot  helpless,  or  the  severity  of 
the  season  the  husbandman  or  the  physician  ;  for  the  good  may 
become  bad,  as  another  poet  witnesses : — 

"  The  good  are  sometimes  good  and  sometimes  bad." 

But  the  bad  does  not  become  bad ;  he  is  always  bad.  So  that 
when  the  force  of  circumstances  overpowers  the  man  of  re- 
sources and  skill  and  virtue,  then  he  cannot,  help  being  bad. 
And  you,  Pittacus,  are  saying,  "  Hard  to  be  good."  Now  there 
is  a  difficulty  in  becoming  good ;  and  yet  this  is  possible,  but 
to  be  good  is  an  impossibility ;  "  for  he  who  does  well  is  the 
good  man,  and  he  who  does  ill  is  the  bad."  But  what  sort  of 
doing  is  good  in  letters  ?  and  what  sort  of  doing  makes  a  man 
good  in  letters?  Clearly  the  knowing  of  them.  And  what  sort 
of  well-doing  makes  a  man  a  good  physician?     Clearly  the 


PROTAGORAS  191 

knowing  of  the  art  of  healing  the  sick.  "  But  he  who  does  ill 
is  the  bad."  Now  who  becomes  a  bad  physician  ?  Clearly  he 
who  is  in  the  first  place  a  physician,  and  in  the  second  place  a 
good  physician ;  for  he  may  become  a  bad  one  also :  but  none 
of  us  unskilled  individuals  can  by  any  amount  of  doing  ill  be- 
come physicians,  any  more  than  we  can  become  carpenters  or 
anything  of  that  sort ;  and  he  who  by  doing  ill  cannot  become 
a  physician  at  all,  clearly  cannot  become  a  bad  physician.  In 
like  manner  the  good  may  become  deteriorated  b>  time,  or  toil, 
or  disease,  or  other  accident  (the  only  real  '11-doing  is  the  dep- 
rivation of  knowledge),  but  the  bad  man  will  never  become 
bad,  for  he  is  always  bad ;  and  if  he  were  to  become  bad,  he  must 
previously  have  been  good.  Thus  the  words  of  the  poem  tend 
to  show  rhat  on  the  one  hand  a  man  cannot  be  continuously 
good,  but  that  he  may  become  good  and  may  also  become  bad ; 
and  again  that  "  they  are  the  best  for  the  longest  time  whom 
the  gods  love." 

All  this  relates  to  Pittacus,  as  is  further  proved  by  the  sequel. 
For  he  adds :  "  Therefore  I  will  not  throw  away  my  life  in 
searching  after  the  impossible,  hoping  in  vain  to  find  a  perfectly 
faultless  man  among  those  who  partake  of  the  fruit  of  the  broad- 
bosomed  earth ;  and  when  I  have  found  him  to  tell  you  of  him  ** 
(this  is  the  vehement  way  in  which  he  pursues  his  attack  upon 
Pittacus  throughout  the  whole  poem) :  "  but  him  who  does  no 
evil  voluntarily  I  praise  and  love ;  not  even  the  gods  war  against 
necessity."  All  this  has  a  similar  drift,  for  Simonides  was  not 
so  ignorant  as  to  say  that  he  praised  those  who  did  no  evil 
voluntarily,  as  though  there  were  some  who  did  evil  voluntarily. 
For  no  wise  man,  as  I  believe,  will  allow  that  any  human  being 
errs  voluntarily,  or  voluntarily  does  evil  and  dishonorable  ac-. 
tions ;  but  they  are  very  well  aware  that  all  who  do  evil  and 
dishonorable  things  do  them  against  their  will.  And  Simonides 
never  says  that  he  praises  him  who  does  no  evil  voluntarily ; 
the  word  "  voluntarily  "  applies  to  himself.  For  he  was  under 
the  impression  that  a  good  man  might  often  compel  himself  to 
love  and  praise  another,  and  that  there  might  be  an  involuntary 
love,  such  as  a  man  might  feel  to  an  ungainly  father  or  mother, 
or  to  his  country  or  something  of  that  sort.  Now  bad  men, 
when  their  parents  or  country  have  any  defects,  rejoice  at  the 
sight  of  them,  and  expose  them  to  others,  and  find  fault  with 
them  and  denounce  them,  under  the  idea  that  the  rest  of  man- 


192  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

kind  will  be  less  likely  to  take  them  to  task  and  reproach  them 
when  they  neglect  them  ;  and  this  makes  them  exaggerate  their 
defects,  in  order  that  the  odium  which  is  necessarily  incurred  by 
them  may  be  increased :  but  the  good  man  dissembles  his  feel- 
ings, and  constrains  himself  to  praise  them ;  and  if  they  have 
wronged  him  and  he  is  angry,  he  pacifies  his  anger  and  is  recon- 
ciled, and  compels  himself  to  love  and  praise  his  own  flesh  and 
blood.  And  Simonides,  as  is  probable,  considered  that  he  him- 
self iiad  often  had  to  praise  and  magnify  a  tyrant  or  the  like, 
much  against  his  will,  and  he  also  wishes  to  imply  to  Pittacus 
that  he  is  not  censorious  and  does  not  censure  him.  "  For  I  am 
satisfied,"  he  says,  "  when  a  man  is  neither  bad  nor  very  stupid, 
and  when  he  knows  justice  (which  is  the  health  of  States),  and  is 
of  sound  mind,  I  will  find  no  fault  with  him,  for  I  am  not  given 
to  finding  fault,  for  there  are  innumerable  fools  "  (implying  that 
if  he  delighted  in  censure  he  might  have  abundant  opportunity 
of  finding  fault).  "  All  things  are  good  with  which  evil  is  un- 
mingled."  In  these  latter  words  he  does  not  mean  to  say  that 
all  things  are  good  which  have  no  evil  in  them,  as  you  might 
say  "  all  things  are  white  which  have  no  black  in  them,"  for 
that  would  be  ridiculous ;  but  he  means  to  say  that  he  accepts 
and  finds  no  fault  with  the  moderate  or  intermediate  state.  "  I 
do  not  hope,"  he  says,  ''  to  find  a  perfectly  blameless  man 
among  those  who  partake  of  the  fruits  of  the  broad-bosomed 
earth,  and  when  I  ^ave  found  him  to  tell  you  of  him  ;  in  this  sense 
I  praise  no  man.  But  he  who  is  moderately  good,  and  does  no 
evil,  is  good  enough  for  me,  who  love  and  approve  everyone  " 
(and  here  observe  that  he  uses  a  Lesbian  word,  iiraivfjfii,  be- 
cause he  is  addressing  Pittacus — "  who  love  and  approve  every- 
one voluntarily,"  he  says,  "  who  does  no  evil  " :  and  that  the 
stop  should  be  put  after  "  voluntarily  ")  ;  "  but  there  are  some 
whom  I  involuntarily  praise  and  love.  And  you,  Pittacus,  I 
would  never  have  blamed,  if  you  had  spoken  what  was  moder- 
ately good  and  true ;  but  I  do  blame  you  because,  wearing  the 
appearance  of  truth,  you  are  speaking  falsely  about  the  greatest 
matters."  And  this,  I  said,  Prodicus  and  Protagoras,  I  take  to 
be  the  true  meaning  of  Simonides  in  this  poem, 

Hippias  said :  I  think,  Socrates,  that  you  have  given  a  very 
good  explanation  of  this  poem ;  but  I  have  also  an  excellent 
interpretation  of  my  own  which  I  will  expound  to  you,  if  you 
will  allow  me. 


PROTAGORAS  193 

Nay,  Hippias,  said  Alcibiades;  not  now,  but  another  time. 
At  present  we  must  abide  by  the  compact  which  was  made  be- 
tween Socrates  and  Protagoras,  to  the  effect  that  as  long  as 
Protagoras  is  wilHng  to  ask,  Socrates  should  answer;  or  that 
if  he  would  rather  answer,  then  that  Socrates  should  ask, 

I  said :  I  wish  Protagoras  either  to  ask  or  answer  as  he  is  in- 
clined ;  but  I  would  rather  have  done  with  poems  and  odes,  if 
you  do  not  object,  and  come  back  to  the  question  about  which 
I  was  asking  you  at  first,  Protagoras,  and  by  your  help  make 
an  end  of  that.  The  talk  about  the  poets  seems  to  me  like  a 
commonplace  entertainment  to  which  a  vulgar  company  have 
recourse ;  who,  because  they  are  not  able  to  converse  or  amuse 
one  another,  while  they  are  drinking,  with  the  sound  of  their 
own  voices  and  conversation  by  reason  of  their  stupidity,  raise 
the  price  of  flute  girls  in  the  market,  hiring  for  a  great  sum  the 
voice  of  a  flute  instead  of  their  own  breath,  to  be  the  medium  of 
intercourse  among  them :  but  where  the  company  are  real  gen- 
tlemen and  men  of  education,  you  will  see  no  flute  girls,  nor 
dancing-girls,  nor  harp  girls ;  and  they  have  no  nonsense  or 
games,  but  are  contented  with  one  another's  conversation,  of 
which  their  own  voices  are  the  medium,  and  which  they  carry 
on  by  turns  and  in  an  orderly  manner,  even  though  they  are 
very  liberal  in  their  potations.  And  a  company  like  this  of  ours, 
and  men  such  as  we  profess  to  be,  do  not  require  the  help  of 
another's  voice,  or  of  the  poets  whom  you  cannot  interrogate 
about  the  meaning  of  what  they  are  saying ;  people  who  cite 
them  declaring,  some  that  the  poet  has  one  meaning,  and  others 
that  he  has  another ;  and  there  arises  a  dispute  which  can  never 
be  put  to  the  proof.  This  sort  of  entertainment  they  decline, 
and  prefer  to  talk  with  one  another,  and  try  one  another's  met- 
tle in  conversation.  And  these  are  the  sort  of  models  which  I 
desire  that  you  and  I  should  imitate.  Leaving  the  poets,  and 
keeping  to  ourselves,  let  us  try  the  mettle  of  one  another  and  of 
the  truth  in  conversation.  And  if  you  have  a  mind  to  ask  I  am 
ready  to  answer ;  or  if  you  would  rather,  do  you  answer,  and 
give  me  the  opportunity  of  taking  up  and  completing  our  un- 
finished argument. 

I  made  these  and  some  similar  observations ;  but  Protagoras 
would  not  distinctly  say  which  he  would  do.  Thereupon  Al- 
cibiades turned  to  CalHas,  and  said :  Do  you  think,  Callias,  that 
Protagoras  is  fair  in  refusing  to  say  whether  he  will  or  will  not 
13 


194  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

answer?  for  I  certainly  think  that  he  is  unfair;  he  ought  either 
to  proceed  with  the  argument,  or  distinctly  to  refuse  to  proceed, 
that  we  may  know  his  intention ;  and  then  Socrates  will  be  able 
to  discourse  with  someone  else,  and  the  rest  of  the  company 
will  be  free  to  talk  with  one  another. 

I  think  that  Protagoras  was  really  made  ashamed  by  these 
words  of  Alcibiades,  and  when  the  prayers  of  Callias  and  the 
company  were  superadded,  he  was  at  last  induced  to  argue,  and 
said  that  I  might  ask  and  he  would  answer. 

So  I  said:  Do  not  imagine,  Protagoras,  that  I  have  any 
other  interest  in  asking  questions  of  you  but  that  of  clearing  up 
my  own  difficulties.  For  I  think  that  Homer  was  very  right  in 
saying  that  "  When  two  go  together,  one  sees  before  the 
other,"  *  for  all  men  who  have  a  companion  are  readier  in  deed, 
word,  or  thought ;  but  if  a  man  "  sees  a  thing  when  he  is  alone," 
he  goes  about  straightway  seeking  until  he  finds  someone  to 
whom  he  may  show  his  discoveries,  and  who  may  confirm  him 
in  them.  And  I  would  rather  hold  discourse  with  you  than  with 
anyone,  because  I  think  that  no  man  has  a  better  understanding 
of  most  things  which  a  good  man  may  be  expected  to  under- 
stand, and  in  particular  of  virtue.  For  who  is  there,  but  you  ? 
— who  not  only  claim  to  be  a  good  man  and  a  gentleman,  for 
many  are  this,  and  yet  have  not  the  power  of  making  others 
good.  Whereas  you  are  not  only  good  yourself,  but  also  the 
cause  of  goodness  in  others.  Moreover  such  confidence  have 
you  in  yourself,  that  although  other  Sophists  conceal  their  pro- 
fession, you  proclaim  in  the  face  of  Hellas  that  you  are  a  Sophist 
or  teacher  of  virtue  and  education,  and  are  the  first  who  de- 
manded pay  in  return.  How  then  can  I  do  otherwise  than  invite 
you  to  the  examination  of  these  subjects,  and  ask  questions  and 
take  advice  of  you  ?  Indeed,  I  must.  And  I  should  like  once 
more  to  have  my  memory  refreshed  by  you  about  the  questions 
which  I  was  asking  you  at  first,  and  also  to  have  your  help  in 
considering  them.  If  I  am  not  mistaken  the  question  was  this : 
Are  wisdom  and  temperance  and  courage  and  justice  and  holi- 
ness five  names  of  the  same  thing?  or  has  each  of  the  names  a 
separate  underlying  essence  and  corresponding  thing  having  a 
proper  function,  no  one  of  them  being  like  any  other  of  them? 
And  you  said  that  the  five  names  were  not  the  names  of  the 
same  thing,  but  that  each  of  them  had  a  separate  object,  and 

*  II.  X.  224. 


PROTAGORAS  195 

that  all  of  them  were  parts  of  virtue,  not  in  the  same  way  that 
the  parts  of  gold  are  like  each  other  and  the  whole  of  which  they 
are  parts,  but  as  the  parts  of  the  face  are  unlike  the  whole  of 
which  they  are  parts  and  one  another,  and  have  each  of  them 
a  distinct  function.  I  should  like  to  know  whether  this  is  still 
your  opinion ;  or  if  not,  I  will  ask  you  to  define  your  meaning, 
as  I  shall  not  take  you  to  task  if  you  now  make  a  different  state- 
ment. For  I  dare  say  that  you  may  have  said  what  you  did  only 
in  order  to  make  trial  of  me. 

I  answer,  Socrates,  he  said,  that  all  these  qualities  are  parts 
of  virtue,  and  that  four  out  of  the  five  are  to  some  extent  similar, 
and  that  the  fifth  of  them,  which  is  courage,  is  very  different 
from  the  other  four,  as  I  prove  in  this  way :  You  may  observe 
that  many  men  are  utterly  unrighteous,  unholy,  intemperate,  ig- 
norant, who  are  nevertheless  remarkable  for  their  courage. 

Stop,  I  said ;  that  requires  consideration.  When  you  speak 
of  brave  men,  do  you  mean  the  confident,  or  another  sort  of 
nature  ? 

Yes,  he  said;  I  mean  the  impetuous,  ready  to  go  at  that 
which  others  are  afraid  to  approach. 

In  the  next  place,  you  would  affirm  virtue  to  be  a  good  thing, 
of  which  good  thing  you  assert  yourself  to  be  a  teacher. 

Yes,  he  said ;  I  should  say  the  best  of  all  things,  as  I  am  a 
sane  man. 

And  is  it  partly  good  and  partly  bad,  I  said,  or  wholly  good? 

Wholly  good,  and  that  in  the  highest  degree. 

Tell  me  then;  who  are  they  who  have  confidence  in  div- 
ing into  a  well  ? 

I  should  say,  the  divers. 

And  the  reason  of  this  is  that  they  have  knowledge  ? 

Yes,  that  is  the  reason. 

And  who  have  confidence  in  fighting  on  horseback — the 
skilled  horsemen  or  the  unskilled? 

The  skilled. 

And  who  in  fighting  with  light  shields — the  peltasts  or  the 
non-peltasts? 

The  peltasts.  And  that  is  true  of  all  other  things,  he  said,  if 
that  is  your  point :  those  who  have  knowledge  are  more  confi- 
dent than  those  who  have  no  knowledge,  and  they  are  more 
confident  after  they  have  learned  than  before. 


196  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

And  have  you  not  seen  persons  utterly  ignorant,  I  said,  of 
these  things,  and  yet  confident  about  them  ? 

Yes,  he  said,  I  have  seen  persons  very  confident. 

And  are  not  these  confident  persons  always  courageous  ? 

In  that  case,  he  replied,  courage  would  be  a  base  thing,  for 
the  men  of  whom  we  are  speaking  are  surely  madmen. 

Then  who  are  the  courageous  ?    Are  they  not  the  confident  ? 

Yes,  he  said ;  and  I  still  maintain  that. 

And  those,  I  said,  who  are  thus  confident  without  knowledge 
are  really  not  courageous,  but  mad ;  and  in  that  case  the  wisest 
are  also  the  most  confident,  and  being  the  most  confident  are 
also  the  bravest,  and  upon  that  view  again  wisdom  will  be 
courage. 

Nay,  Socrates,  he  replied,  you  are  mistaken  in  your  remem- 
brance of  what  was  said  by  me.  When  you  asked  me,  I  cer- 
tainly did  say  that  the  courageous  are  the  confident ;  but  I  was 
not  asked  whether  the  confident  are  the  courageous ;  for  if  you 
had  asked  me  that,  I  should  have  answered  "  Not  all  of  them  " : 
and  what  I  did  answer  you  have  not  disproved,  although  you 
proceed  to  show  that  those  who  have  knowledge  are  more 
courageous  than  they  were  before  they  had  knowledge,  and 
more  courageous  than  others  who  have  no  knowledge;  and 
this  makes  you  think  that  courage  is  the  same  as  wisdom.  But 
in  this  way  of  arguing  you  might  come  to  imagine  that  strength 
is  wisdom.  You  might  begin  by  asking  whether  the  strong 
are  able,  and  I  should  say  "  Yes  " :  and  then  whether  those  who 
know  how  to  wrestle  are  not  more  able  to  wrestle  than  those  who 
do  not  know  how  to  wrestle,  and  more  able  after  than  before 
they  had  learned,  and  I  should  assent.  And  when  I  had  ad- 
mitted this,  you  might  use  my  admissions  in  such  a  way  as  to 
prove  that  upon  my  view  wisdom  is  strength ;  whereas  in  that 
case  I  should  not  have  admitted,  any  more  than  in  the  other, 
that  the  able  are  strong,  although  I  have  admitted  that  the 
strong  are  able.  For  there  is  a  difference  between  ability  and 
strength  ;  the  former  is  given  by  knowledge  as  well  as  by  mad- 
ness or  rage,  but  strength  comes  from  nature  and  a  healthy  state 
of  the  body.  And  in  like  manner  I  say  of  confidence  and  cour- 
age that  they  are  not  the  same ;  and  I  argue  that  the  coura- 
geous are  confident,  but  not  all  the  confident  courageous.  For 
confidence  may  be  given  to  men  by  art,  and  also,  like  ability,  by 


PROTAGORAS  197 

anger  and  madness ;  but  courage  comes  to  them  from  nature 
and  the  healthy  state  of  the  soul, 

I  said :  You  would  admit,  Protagoras,  that  some  men  live 
well  and  others  ill? 

He  agreed  to  this. 

And  do  you  think  that  a  man  lives  well  who  lives  in  pain  and 
grief  ? 

He  does  not. 

But  if  he  lives  pleasantly  to  the  end  of  his  life,  don't  you  think 
that  in  that  case  he  will  have  lived  well  ? 

I  do. 

Then  to  live  pleasantly  is  a  good,  and  to  live  unpleasantly 
an  evil. 

Yes,  he  said,  if  the  pleasure  be  good  and  honorable. 

And  do  you,  Protagoras,  like  the  rest  of  the  world,  call  some 
pleasant  things  evil  and  some  painful  things  good? — for  I  am 
rather  disposed  to  say  that  things  are  good  in  as  far  as  they  are 
pleasant,  if  they  have  no  consequences  of  another  sort,  and  in 
as  far  as  they  are  painful  they  are  bad. 

I  do  not  know,  Socrates,  he  said,  whether  I  can  venture  to 
assert  in  that  unqualified  manner  that  the  pleasant  is  the  good 
and  the  painful  the  evil.  Having  regard  not  only  to  my  present 
answer,  but  also  to  the  rest  of  my  life,  I  shall  be  safer,  if  I  am  not 
mistaken,  in  saying  that  there  are  some  pleasant  things  which 
are  not  good,  and  that  there  are  some  painful  things  which  are 
good,  and  some  which  are  not  good,  and  that  there  are  some 
which  are  neither  good  nor  evil. 

And  you  would  call  pleasant,  I  said,  the  things  which  par- 
ticipate in  pleasure  or  create  pleasure  ? 

Certainly,  he  said. 

Then  my  meaning  is,  that  in  as  far  as  they  are  pleasant  they 
are  good ;  and  my  question  would  imply  that  pleasure  is  a  good 
in  itself. 

According  to  your  favorite  mode  of  speech,  Socrates,  let  us 
inquire  about  this,  he  said  ;  and  if  the  result  of  the  inquiry  is  to 
show  that  pleasure  and  good  are  really  the  same,  then  we  will 
agree ;   but  if  not,  then  we  will  argue. 

And  would  you  wish  to  begin  the  inquiry  ?  I  said ;  or  shall 
I  begin  ? 

You  ought  to  take  the  lead,  he  said ;  for  you  are  the  author 
of  the  discussion. 


198  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

May  I  use  this  as  an  illustration  ?  I  said.  Suppose  some  one 
who  is  inquiring  into  the  health  or  some  other  bodily  quality  of 
another :  he  looks  at  his  face  and  at  the  tips  of  his  fingers,  and 
then  he  says,  Uncover  your  chest  and  back  to  me,  that  I  may 
have  a  better  view :  that  is  the  sort  of  thing  which  I  desire  in  this 
speculation.  Having  seen  what  your  opinion  is  about  good  and 
pleasure,  I  am  minded  to  say  to  you :  Uncover  your  mind  to 
me,  Protagoras,  and  reveal  your  opinion  about  knowledge,  that 
I  may  know  whether  you  agree  with  the  rest  of  the  world.  Now 
the  rest  of  the  world  are  of  opinion  that  knowledge  is  a  prin- 
ciple not  of  strength,  or  of  rule,  or  of  command :  their  notion  is 
that  a  man  may  have  knowledge,  and  yet  that  the  knowledge 
which  is  in  him  may  be  overmastered  by  anger,  or  pleasure,  or 
pain,  or  love,  or  perhaps  fear — ^just  as  if  knowledge  were  a 
slave,  and  might  be  dragged  about  anyhow.  Now  is  that  your 
view  ?  or  do  you  think  that  knowledge  is  a  noble  and  command- 
ing thing,  which  cannot  be  overcome,  and  will  not  allow  a  man, 
if  he  only  knows  the  difference  of  good  and  evil,  to  do  any- 
thing which  is  contrary  to  knowledge,  but  that  wisdom  will 
have  strength  to  help  him  ? 

I  agree  with  you,  Socrates,  said  Protagoras;  and  not  only 
that,  but  I  above  all  other  men  am  bound  to  say  that  wisdom 
and  knowledge  are  the  highest  of  human  things. 

Good,  I  said,  and  true.  But  are  you  aware  that  the  majority 
of  the  world  are  of  another  mind ;  and  that  men  are  commonly 
supposed  to  know  the  things  which  are  best,  and  not  to  do 
them  when  they  might?  And  most  persons  of  whom  I  have 
asked  the  reason  of  this  have  said  that  those  who  did  thus  were 
overcome  by  pain,  or  pleasure,  or  some  of  those  affections 
which  I  was  just  now  mentioning. 

Yes,  Socrates,  he  replied ;  and  that  is  not  the  only  point 
about  which  mankind  are  in  error. 

Suppose,  then,  that  you  and  I  endeavor  to  instruct  and  inform 
them  what  is  the  nature  of  this  affection,  which  is  called  by 
them  being  overcome  by  pleasure,  and  which,  as  they  declare,  is 
the  reason  why  they  know  the  better  and  choose  the  worse. 
When  we  say  to  them :  Friends,  you  are  mistaken,  and  are 
saying  what  is  not  true,  they  would  reply :  Socrates  and  Protag- 
oras, if  this  affection  of  the  soul  is  not  to  be  described  as  being 
overcome  by  pleasure,  what  is  it,  and  how  do  you  call  it  ?  Tell 
us  that. 


PROTAGORAS  199 

But  why,  Socrates,  should  we  trouble  ourselves  about  the 
opinion  of  the  many,  who  just  say  anything  that  happens  to 
occur  to  them  ? 

I  think,  I  replied,  that  their  opinion  may  help  us  to  discover 
the  nature  and  relation  of  courage  to  the  other  parts  of  virtue. 
If  you  are  disposed  to  abide  by  our  recent  agreement,  that  I 
should  lead  in  the  way  in  which  I  think  that  we  shall  find  the 
truth  best,  do  you  follow ;  but  if  you  are  disinclined,  never  mind. 

You  are  quite  right,  he  said ;  and  I  would  have  you  proceed 
as  you  have  begun. 

Well  then,  I  said,  let  me  suppose  that  they  repeat  their  ques- 
tion. What  account  do  you  give  of  that  which,  in  our  language, 
is  termed  being  overcome  by  pleasure  ?  I  should  answer  them 
thus :  Listen,  and  Protagoras  and  I  will  endeavor  to  show  you. 
When  men  are  overcome  by  eating  and  drinking  and  other  sen- 
sual desires  which  are  pleasant,  and  they,  knowing  them  to  be 
evil,  nevertheless  indulge  in  them,  is  not  that  what  you  would 
call  being  overcome  by  pleasure  ?  That  they  will  admit.  And 
suppose  that  you  and  I  were  to  go  on  and  ask  them  again :  In 
what  way  do  you  say  that  they  are  evil — in  that  they  are  pleas- 
ant and  give  pleasure  at  the  moment,  or  because  they  cause  dis- 
ease and  poverty  and  other  Hke  evils  in  the  future  ?  Would  they 
still  be  evil,  if  they  had  no  attendant  evil  consequences,  simply 
because  they  give  the  consciousness  of  pleasure  of  whatever 
nature  ?  Would  they  not  answer  that  they  are  not  evil  on  ac- 
count of  the  pleasure  which  is  imrnediately  given  by  them,  but 
on  account  of  the  after  consequences — diseases  and  the  like  ? 

I  believe,  said  Protagoras,  that  the  world  in  general  would 
give  that  answer. 

And  in  causing  diseases  do  they  not  cause  pain  ?  and  in  caus- 
ing poverty  do  they  not  cause  pain ;  they  would  agree  to  that 
also,  if  I  am  not  mistaken  ? 

Protagoras  assented. 

Then  I  should  say  to  them,  in  my  name  and  yours :  Do  you 
think  them  evil  for  any  other  reason,  except  that  they  end  in 
pain  and  rob  us  of  other  pleasures? — that  again  they  would 
admit  ? 

We  both  of  us  thought  that  they  would. 

And  that  I  should  take  the  question  from  the  opposite  point 
of  view,  and  say :  Friends,  when  you  speak  of  goods  being  pain- 
ful, do  you  mean  remedial  goods,  such  as  gymnastic  exercises 


*o6  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

and  military  services,  and  the  physician's  use  of  burning,  cut- 
ting, drugging,  and  starving?  Are  these  the  things  which  are 
good  but  painful? — they  would  assent  to  that? 

He  agreed. 

And  do  you  call  them  good  because  they  occasion  the  great- 
est immediate  suffering  and  pain ;  or  because,  afterwards,  they 
bring  health  and  improvement  of  the  bodily  condition  and  the 
salvation  of  States  and  empires  and  wealth  ? — they  would  agree 
to  that,  if  I  am  not  mistaken  ? 

He  assented. 

Are  these  things  good  for  any  other  reason  except  that  they 
end  in  pleasure,  and  get  rid  of  and  avert  pain  ?  Are  you  looking 
to  any  other  standard  but  pleasure  and  pain  when  you  call  them 
good  ? — they  would  acknowledge  that  they  were  not  ? 

I  think  that  they  would,  said  Protagoras. 

And  do  you  not  pursue  after  pleasure  as  a  good,  and  avoid 
pain  as  an  evil  ? 

He  assented. 

Then  you  think  that  pain  is  an  evil  and  pleasure  is  a  good: 
and  even  pleasure  you  deem  an  evil,  when  it  robs  you  of  greater 
pleasures  than  it  gives,  or  causes  greater  pain  than  the  pleas- 
ures which  it  has.  If,  however,  you  call  pleasure  an  evil  in  rela- 
tion to  some  other  end  or  standard,  you  will  be  able  to  show  us 
that  standard.    But  you  have  none  to  show. 

I  do  not  think  that  they  have,  said  Protagoras. 

And  have  you  not  a  similar  way  of  speaking  about  pain? 
You  call  pain  a  good  when  it  takes  away  greater  pains  than 
those  which  it  has,  or  gives  pleasures  greater  than  the  pains ; 
for  I  say  that  if  you  have  some  standard  other  than  pleasure  and 
pain  to  which  you  refer  when  you  call  actual  pain  a  good,  you 
can  show  what  that  is.    But  you  cannot. 

That  is  true,  said  Protagoras. 

Suppose  again,  I  said,  that  the  world  says  to  me :  Why  do 
you  spend  many  words  and  speak  in  many  ways  on  this  sub- 
ject ?  Excuse  me,  friends,  I  should  reply ;  but  in  the  first  place 
there  is  a  difficulty  in  explaining  the  meaning  of  the  expression 
"  overcome  by  pleasure  "  ;  and  the  whole  argument  turns  upon 
this.  And  even  now,  if  you  see  any  possible  way  in  which  evil 
can  be  explained  as  other  than  pain,  or  good  as  other  than 
pleasure,  you  may  still  retract.  But  I  suppose  that  you  are  sat- 
isfied at  having  a  life  of  pleasure  which  is  without  pain.    And 


PROTAGORAS  201 

if  you  are  satisfied,  and  if  you  are  unable  to  show  any  good  or 
evil  which  does  not  end  in  pleasure  and  pain,  hear  the  conse- 
quences— If  this  is  true,  then  I  say  that  the  argument  is  ab- 
surd which  affirms  that  a  man  often  does  evil  knowingly,  when 
he  might  abstain,  because  he  is  seduced  and  amazed  by  pleasure ; 
or  again,  when  you  say  that  a  man  knowingly  refuses  to  do 
what  is  good  because  he  is  overcome  at  the  moment  by  pleasure. 
Now  that  this  is  ridiculous  will  be  evident  if  only  we  give  up 
the  use  of  various  names,  such  as  pleasant  and  painful,  and  good 
and  evil.  As  there  are  two  things,  let  us  call  them  by  two  names 
— first,  good  and  evil,  and  then  pleasant  and  painful.  Assum- 
ing this,  let  us  go  on  to  say  that  a  man  does  evil  knowing  that 
he  does  evil.  But  someone  will  ask,  Why  ?  Because  he  is  over- 
come, is  the  first  answer.  And  by  what  is  he  overcome?  the 
inquirer  will  proceed  to  ask.  And  we  shall  not  be  able  to  reply 
"  By  pleasure,"  for  the  name  of  pleasure  has  been  exchanged 
for  that  of  good.  In  our  answer,  then,  we  shall  only  say  that  he 
is  overcome.  "  By  what?  "  he  will  reiterate.  By  the  good,  we 
shall  have  to  reply ;  indeed  we  shall.  Nay,  but  our  questioner 
will  rejoin  with  a  laugh,  if  he  be  one  of  the  swaggering  sort, 
That  is  too  ridiculous,  that  a  man  should  do  what  he  knows  to 
be  evil  when  he  ought  not,  because  he  is  overcome  by  good. 
Is  that,  he  will  ask,  because  the  good  was  worthy  or  not  worthy 
of  conquering  the  evil?  And  in  answer  to  that  we  shall  clearly 
reply.  Because  it  was  not  worthy  ;  for  if  it  had  been  worthy,  then 
he  who,  as  we  say,  was  overcome  by  pleasure,  would  not  have 
been  wrong.  But  how,  he  will  reply,  can  the  good  be  unworthy 
of  the  evil,  or  the  evil  of  the  good  ?  Is  not  the  real  explanation 
that  they  are  out  of  proportion  to  one  another,  either  as  greater 
and  smaller,  or  more  and  fewer?  This  we  cannot  deny.  And 
when  you  speak  of  being  overcome — what  do  you  mean,  he 
will  say,  but  that  you  choose  the  greater  evil  in  exchange  for 
the  lesser  good  ?  This  being  the  case,  let  us  now  substitute  the 
names  of  pleasure  and  pain,  and  say,  not  as  before,  that  a  man 
does  what  is  evil  knowingly,  but  that  he  does  what  is  painful 
knowingly,  and  because  he  is  overcome  by  pleasure,  which  is 
unworthy  to  overcome.  And  what  measure  is  there  of  the  rela- 
tions of  pleasure  to  pain  other  than  excess  and  defect,  which 
means  that  they  become  greater  and  smaller,  and  more  and 
fewer,  and  different  in  degree?  For  if  anyone  says,  "  Yes,  Soc- 
rates, but  immediate  pleasure  differs  widely  from  future  pleas- 


202  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

ure  and  pain  " — to  that  I  should  reply :  And  do  they  differ  in 
any  other  way  except  by  reason  of  pleasure  and  pain  ?  There 
can  be  no  other  measure  of  them.  And  do  you,  like  a  skilful 
weigher,  put  into  the  balance  the  pleasures  and  the  pains  near 
and  distant,  and  weigh  them,  and  then  say  which  outweighs  the 
other.  If  you  weigh  pleasures  against  pleasures,  you  of  course 
take  the  more  and  greater;  or  if  you  weigh  pains  against 
pains,  you  take  the  fewer  and  the  less ;  or  if  pleasures  against 
pains,  then  you  choose  that  course  of  action  in  which  the  pain- 
ful is  exceeded  by  the  pleasant,  whether  the  distant  by  the  near 
or  the  near  by  the  distant ;  and  you  avoid  that  course  of  action 
in  which  the  pleasant  is  exceeded  by  the  painful.  Would  you 
not  admit,  my  friends,  that  this  is  true?  I  am  confident  that 
they  cannot  deny  this. 

He  agreed  with  me. 

Well  then,  I  shall  say,  if  you  admit  that,  be  so  good  as  to 
answer  me  a  question :  Do  not  the  same  magnitudes  appear 
larger  to  your  sight  when  near,  and  smaller  when  at  a  distance  ? 
They  will  acknowledge  that.  And  the  same  holds  of  thickness 
and  number;  also  sounds,  which  are  in  themselves  equal,  are 
greater  when  near,  and  lesser  when  at  a  distance.  They  will 
grant  that  also.  Now  supposing  that  happiness  consisted  in 
making  and  taking  large  things,  what  would  be  the  saving  prin- 
ciple of  human  Hfe  ?  Would  the  art  of  measuring  be  the  saving 
principle,  or  would  the  power  of  appearance  ?  Is  not  the  latter 
that  deceiving  art  which  makes  us  wander  up  and  down  and 
take  the  things  at  one  time  of  which  we  repent  at  another,  both 
in  our  actions  and  in  our  choice  of  things  great  and  small  ?  But 
the  art  of  measurement  is  that  which  would  do  away  with  the 
effect  of  appearances,  and,  showing  the  truth,  would  fain  teach 
the  soul  at  last  to  find  rest  in  the  truth,  and  would  thus  save  our 
life.  Would  not  mankind  generally  acknowledge  that  the  art 
which  accomplishes  this  is  the  art  of  measurement  ? 

Yes,  he  said,  the  art  of  measurement. 

Suppose,  again,  the  salvation  of  human  life  to  depend  on  the 
choice  of  odd  and  even,  and  on  the  knowledge  of  when  men 
ought  to  choose  the  greater  or  less,  either  in  reference  to  them- 
selves or  to  each  other,  whether  near  or  at  a  distance ;  what 
would  be  the  saving  principle  of  our  lives?  Would  not  knowl- 
edge?— a  knowledge  of  measuring,  when  the  question  is  one 
of  excess  and  defect,  and  a  knowledge  of  number,  when  the 


PROTAGORAS  203 

question  is  of  odd  and  even  ?  The  world  will  acknowledge  that, 
will  they  not  ? 

Protagoras  admitted  that  they  would. 

Well  then,  I  say  to  them,  my  friends,  seeing  that  the  salva- 
tion of  human  life  has  been  found  to  consist  in  the  right  choice 
of  pleasures  and  pains — in  the  choice  of  the  more  and  the  fewer 
and  the  greater  and  the  less,  and  the  nearer  and  remoter,  must 
not  this  measuring  be  a  consideration  of  excess  and  defect  and 
equality  in  relation  to  each  other? 

That  is  undeniably  true. 

And  this,  as  possessing  measure,  must  undeniably  also  be 
an  art  and  science? 

They  will  agree  to  that. 

The  nature  of  that  art  or  science  will  be  a  matter  of  future 
consideration ;  the  demonstration  of  the  existence  of  such  a 
science  is  a  sufficient  answer  to  the  question  which  you  asked 
of  me  and  Protagoras.  At  the  time  when  you  asked  the  ques- 
tion, if  you  remember,  both  of  us  were  agreeing  that  there  was 
nothing  mightier  than  knowledge,  and  that  knowledge,  in 
whatever  existing,  must  have  the  advantage  over  pleasure  and 
all  other  things ;  and  then  you  said  that  pleasure  often  got  the 
advantage  even  over  a  man  who  has  knowledge ;  and  we  re- 
fused to  allow  this,  and  you  said :  O  Protagoras  and  Socrates, 
if  this  state  is  not  to  be  called  being  overcome  by  pleasure,  tell 
us  what  it  is ;  what  would  you  call  it  ?  If  we  had  immediately 
and  at  the  time  answered  "  Ignorance,"  you  would  have 
laughed  at  us.  But  now,  in  laughing  at  us,  you  will  be  laugh- 
ing at  yourselves :  for  you  also  admitted  that  men  err  in  their 
choice  of  pleasures  and  pains ;  that  is,  in  their  choice  of  good 
and  evil,  from  defect  of  knowledge ;  and  you  admitted  further 
that  they  err,  not  only  from  defect  of  knowledge  in  general,  but 
of  that  particular  knowledge  which  is  called  measuring.  And 
you  are  also  aware  that  the  erring  act  which  is  done  without 
knowledge  is  done  in  ignorance.  This,  therefore,  is  the  mean- 
ing of  being  overcome  by  pleasure — ignorance,  and  that  the 
greatest.  And  our  friends  Protagoras  and  Prodicus  and  Hip- 
pias  declare  that  they  are  the  physicians  of  ignorance  ;  but  you, 
who  are  under  the  mistaken  impression  that  ignorance  is  not 
the  cause,  neither  go  yourselves,  nor  send  your  children,  to  the 
Sophists,  who  are  the  teachers  of  these  things — you  take  care 
of  your  money  and  give  them  none ;  and  the  result  is  that  you 


204  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

are  the  worse  oflf  both  in  public  and  private  life :  let  us  suppose 
this  to  be  our  answer  to  the  world  in  general.  But  I  would  like 
now  to  ask  you,  Hippias,  and  you,  Prodicus,  as  well  as  Protago- 
ras (for  the  argument  is  to  be  yours  as  well  as  ours),  whether 
you  think  that  I  am  speaking  the  truth  or  not  ? 

They  all  thought  that  what  I  said  was  entirely  true. 

Then  you  agree,  I  said,  that  the  pleasant  is  the  good,  and  the 
painful  evil.  And  here  I  would  beg  my  friend  Prodicus  not  to 
introduce  his  distinction  of  names,  whether  he  is  disposed  to 
say  pleasurable,  delightful,  joyful.  However  and  in  whatever 
way  he  rejoices  to  name  them,  I  will  ask  you,  most  excellent 
Prodicus,  to  answer  this  in  my  sense. 

Prodicus  laughed  and  assented,  as  did  the  others. 

Then,  my  friends,  I  said,  what  do  you  say  to  this  ?  Are  not 
all  actions,  the  tendency  of  which  is  to  make  life  painless  and 
pleasant,  honorable  and  useful?  The  honorable  work  is  also 
useful  and  good  ? 

This  was  admitted. 

Then,  I  said,  if  the  pleasant  is  the  good,  nobody  does  any- 
thing under  the  idea  or  conviction  that  some  other  thing  would 
be  better  and  is  also  attainable,  when  he  might  do  the  better. 
And  this  inferiority  of  a  man  to  himself  is  merely  ignorance,  as 
the  superiority  of  a  man  to  himself  is  wisdom. 

They  all  assented. 

And  is  not  ignorance  the  having  a  false  opinion  and  being  de- 
ceived about  important  matters  ? 

To  that  they  also  unanimously  assented. 

Then,  I  said,  no  man  voluntarily  pursues  evil,  or  that  which 
he  thinks  to  be  evil.  To  prefer  evil  to  good  is  not  in  human 
nature ;  and  when  a  man  is  compelled  to  choose  one  of  two  evils, 
no  one  will  choose  the  greater  when  he  might  have  the  less. 

All  of  us  agreed  to  every  word  of  this. 

Well,  I  said,  there  is  a  certain  thing  called  fear  or  terror,  and 
here,  Prodicus,  I  should  particularly  like  to  know  whether  you 
would  agree  with  me  in  defining  this  fear  or  terror  as  expecta- 
tion of  evil. 

Protagoras  and  Hippias  agreed,  but  Prodicus  said  that  this 
was  fear  and  not  terror. 

Never  mind  about  that,  Prodicus,  I  said ;  but  let  me  ask 
whether,  if  our  former  assertions  are  true,  a  man  will  pursue 
that  which  he  fears  when  he  need  not  ?    Would  not  this  be  in 


PROTAGORAS  205 

contradiction  to  the  admission  which  has  been  already  made, 
that  he  thinks  the  things  which  he  fears  to  be  evil ;  and  no  one 
will  pursue  or  voluntarily  accept  that  which  he  thinks  to  be  evil. 

That  also  was  universally  admitted. 

Then,  I  said,  these,  Hippias  and  Prodicus,  are  our  premises ; 
and  I  would  beg  Protagoras  to  explain  to  us  how  he  can  be 
right  in  what  he  said  at  first.  I  do  not  mean  in  what  he  said 
quite  at  first,  for  his  first  statement,  as  you  may  remember,  was 
that  whereas  there  were  five  parts  of  virtue  none  of  them  was 
like  any  other  of  them ;  each  of  them  had  a  separate  function. 
To  this,  however,  I  am  not  referring,  but  to  the  assertion  which 
he  afterwards  made  that  of  the  five  virtues  four  were  nearly 
akin  to  each  other,  but  that  the  fifth,  which  was  courage,  dif- 
fered greatly  from  the  others.  And  of  this  he  gave  me  the  fol- 
lowing proof.  He  said :  You  will  find,  Socrates,  that  some  of 
the  most  impious,  and  unrighteous,  and  intemperate,  and  ig- 
norant of  men  are  among  the  most  courageous ;  and  that  is  a 
proof  that  courage  is  very  different  from  the  other  parts  of 
virtue.  I  was  surprised  at  his  saying  this  at  the  time,  and  I  am 
still  more  surprised  now  that  I  have  discussed  the  matter  with 
you.  So  I  asked  him  whether  by  the  brave  he  meant  the  con- 
fident. Yes,  he  replied,  and  the  impetuous  or  goers.  (You 
may  remember,  Protagoras,  that  this  was  your  answer.) 

He  acknowledged  the  truth  of  this. 

Well  then,  I  said,  tell  us  against  what  are  the  courageous 
ready  to  go — against  the  same  as  the  cowards  ? 

No,  he  answered. 

Then  against  something  different? 

Yes,  he  said. 

Then  do  cowards  go  where  there  is  safety,  and  the  coura- 
geous where  there  is  danger  ? 

Yes,  Socrates,  that  is  what  men  say. 

That  is  true,  I  said.  But  I  want  to  know  against  what  the 
courageous  are  ready  to  go — against  dangers,  believing  them 
to  be  dangers,  or  not  against  dangers? 

No,  said  he ;  that  has  been  proved  by  you  in  the  previous 
argument  to  be  impossible. 

That,  again,  I  replied,  is  quite  true.  And  if  this  had  been 
rightly  proven,  then  no  one  goes  to  meet  what  he  thinks  to  be 
dangers,  since  the  want  of  self-control,  which  makes  men  rush 
into  dangers,  has  been  shown  to  be  ignorance. 


2o6  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

He  assented. 

And  yet  the  courageous  man  and  the  coward  alike  go  to 
meet  that  about  which  they  are  confident ;  so  that,  in  this  point 
of  view,  the  cowardly  and  the  courageous  go  to  meet  the 
same  things. 

And  yet,  Socrates,  said  Protagoras,  that  to  which  the  coward 
goes  is  the  opposite  of  that  to  which  the  courageous  goes ;  the 
one,  for  example,  are  ready  to  go  to  battle,  and  the  others  are 
not  ready. 

And  is  going  to  battle  honorable  or  disgraceful  ?  I  said. 

Honorable,  he  replied. 

And  if  honorable,  then  already  admitted  by  us  to  be  good ; 
for  all  honorable  actions  we  have  admitted  to  be  good. 

That  is  true ;  and  to  that  opinion  I  shall  aways  adhere. 

True,  I  said.  But  which  of  the  two  are  they  who,  as  you 
say,  are  unwilling  to  go  to  war,  which  is  a  good  and  hon- 
orable thing? 

The  cowards,  he  replied. 

And  yet,  I  said,  that  which  is  good  and  honorable  is  also 
pleasant  ? 

That,  he  said,  was  certainly  admitted. 

And  do  the  cowards  knowingly  refuse  to  go  to  the  nobler, 
and  pleasanter,  and  better? 

The  admission  of  that,  he  replied,  would  belie  our  former 
admissions.  ' 

But  does  not  the  courageous  man  also  go  to  meet  the  better, 
and  pleasanter,  and  nobler? 

That  must  be  admitted. 

And  the  courageous  man  has  no  base  fear  or  base  confi- 
dence ? 

True,  he  replied. 

And  if  not  base,  then  honorable  ? 

He  admitted  this. 

And  if  honorable,  then  good  ? 

Yes. 

But  the  fear  and  confidence  of  the  coward  or  foolhardy  or 
madman,  on  the  contrary,  are  base? 

He  assented. 

And  these  base  fears  and  confidences  originate  in  ignorance 
and  uninstructedness  ? 

True,  he  said. 


''  PROTAGORAS  207 

Then  as  to  the  motive  from  which  the  cowards  act,  do  you 
call  that  cowardice  or  courage? 

I  should  say  cowardice,  he  replied. 

And  have  they  not  been  shown  to  be  cowards  through  their 
ignorance  of  dangers? 

Assuredly,  he  said. 

And  because  of  that  ignorance  they  are  cowards  ? 

He  assented. 

And  the  reason  why  they  are  cowards  is  admitted  by  you  to 
be  cowardice? 

He  assented. 

Then  the  ignorance  of  what  is  and  is  not  dangerous  is  cow- 
ardice ? 

He  nodded  assent. 

But  surely  courage,  I  said,  is  opposed  to  cowardice? 

Yes. 

And  the  wisdom  which  knows  what  are  and  are  not  dan- 
gers is  opposed  to  the  ignorance  of  them? 

To  that  again  he  nodded  assent. 

And  the  ignorance  of  them  is  cowardice? 

To  that  he  very  reluctantly  nodded  assent. 

And  the  knowledge  of  that  which  is  and  is  not  dangerous 
is  courage,  and  is  opposed  to  the  ignorance  of  these  things  ? 

At  this  point  he  would  no  longer  nod  assent,  but  was  silent. 

And  why,  I  said,  do  you  neither  assent  nor  dissent,  Pro- 
tagoras ? 

Finish  the  argument  by  yourself,  he  said. 

I  only  want  to  ask  one  more  question,  I  said.  I  want  to  know 
whether  you  still  think  that  there  are  men  who  are  most  ig- 
norant and  yet  most  courageous? 

You  seem  to  have  a  great  ambition  to  make  me  answer, 
Socrates,  and  therefore  I  will  gratify  you,  and  say  that  this  ap- 
pears to  me  to  be  impossible  consistently  with  the  argument. 

My  only  object,  I  said,  in  continuing  the  discussion,  has  been 
the  desire  to  ascertain  the  relations  of  virtue  and  the  essential 
nature  of  virtue ;  for  if  this  were  clear,  I  am  very  sure  that  the 
other  controversy  which  has  been  carried  on  at  great  length 
by  both  of  us — you  affirming  and  I  denying  that  virtue  can  be 
taught — would  also  have  become  clear.  The  result  of  our  dis- 
cussion appears  to  me  to  be  singular.  For  if  the  argument  had 
a  human  voice,  that  voice  would  be  heard  laughing  at  us  and 


208  DIALOGUES  OF  PLATO 

saying :  Protagoras  and  Socrates,  you  are  strange  beings ; 
there  are  you  who  were  saying  that  virtue  cannot  be  taught, 
contradicting  yourself  now  in  the  attempt  to  show  that  all 
things  are  knowledge,  including  justice,  and  temperance,  and 
courage — which  tends  to  show  that  virtue  can  certainly  be 
taught ;  for  if  virtue  were  other  than  knowledge,  as  Protagoras 
attempted  to  show,  then  clearly  virtue  cannot  be  taught ;  but 
if  virtue  is  entirely  knowledge,  as  you,  Socrates,  are  seeking  to 
show,  then  I  cannot  but  suppose  that  virtue  is  capable  of  being 
taught.  Protagoras,  on  the  other  hand,  who  started  by  saying 
that  it  might  be  taught,  is  now  eager  to  show  that  it  is  anything 
rather  than  knowledge ;  and  if  this  is  true,  it  must  be  quite 
incapable  of  being  taught.  Now  I,  Protagoras,  perceiving  this 
terrible  confusion  of  ideas,  have  a  great  desire  that  they  should 
be  cleared  up.  And  I  should  like  to  carry  on  the  discussion  un- 
til we  ascertain  what  virtue  is,  and  whether  capable  of  being 
taught  or  not,  lest  haply  Epimetheus  should  trip  us  up  and  de- 
ceive us  in  the  argument,  as  he  forgot  to  provide  for  us  in  the 
story ;  and  I  prefer  your  Prometheus  to  your  Epimetheus :  of 
him  I  make  use  whenever  I  am  busy  about  these  questions  in 
Promethean  care  of  my  own  life.  And  if  you  have  no  objection, 
as  I  said  at  first,  I  should  like  to  have  your  help  in  the  inquiry. 

Protagoras  replied :  Socrates,  I  am  not  of  a  base  nature,  and 
I  am  the  last  man  in  the  world  to  be  envious.  I  cannot  but  ap- 
plaud your  enthusiasm  in  the  conduct  of  an  argument.  As  I 
have  often  said,  I  admire  you  above  all  men  whom  I  know,  cer- 
tainly above  all  men  of  your  age ;  and  I  believe  that  you  will 
become  very  eminent  in  philosophy.  Let  us  come  back  to  the 
subject  at  some  future  time ;  at  present  we  had  better  turn  to 
something  else. 

By  all  means,  I  said,  if  that  is  your  wish  ;  for  I  too  ought  long 
since  to  have  kept  the  engagement  of  which  I  spoke  before,  and 
only  tarried  because  I  could  not  refuse  the  request  of  the  noble 
Callias.    This  finished  the  conversation,  and  we  went  our  way. 


^  I — ■ 1  ^ 


oooaxxxxxxxu 


xjuxxjuuoaaxxxxxxxiJOoixxxyjuoiXJOuuaatAx 


THE  POLITICS 
OF  ARISTOTLE 


TRANSLATED  BY 

BENJAMIN  JOWETT 


WITH  A   PREFACE    BY    THE   TRANSLATOR, 

AND  A  SPECIAL  INTRODUCTION   BY 
MAURICE   FRANCIS    EGAN,  Ph.D. 

PROFESSOR   OF   ENGLISH   LANGUAGE   AND   LITERATURE 
AT   THE  CATHOLIC   UNIVERSITY  OF   AMERICA 


Copyright,  1900, 
By  the  colonial   PRESS 


TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE 

THE  translation  of  the  "  Politics  "  which  is  now  given  to 
the  public  was  commenced  about  fifteen  years  since, 
with  the  intention  of  illustrating  the  Laws  of  Plato.  A 
rough  draft  was  made  by  the  translator,  which  he  had  the  ad- 
vantage of  reading  over  with  Mr.  Alfred  Robinson,  of  New 
College.  But  finding  the  work  more  difficult  than  he  had 
anticipated,  he  determined  to  begin  again  and  rewrite  the 
whole.  He  was  insensibly  led  on  to  the  preparation  of  a 
commentary  and  an  analysis.  Other  subjects  of  a  more  general 
character,  which  arose  out  of  a  study  of  Aristotle's  "  Politics," 
naturally  took  the  form  of  essays.  These  will  be  published 
shortly.  The  translation  was  printed  more  than  two  years  ago, 
and  before  the  appearance  of  Mr.  Welldon's  excellent  book. 
The  editor  has  availed  himself  of  the  opportunity  which  the 
delay  afforded  to  add  in  the  notes  his  second  thoughts  on 
some  doubtful  passages. 

He  has  to  acknowledge  the  great  assistance  which  he  has 
received  from  several  friends,  especially  from  Mr.  David 
Ritchie  in  the  composition  of  the  notes,  and  from  Mr.  Evelyn 
Abbott  in  the  criticism  of  them.  He  has  also  to  express  his 
gratitude  to  his  friend  and  secretary,  Mr.  Matthew  Knight, 
for  many  valuable  suggestions  which  occur  in  different  parts 
of  the  book.  He  wishes  that  Mr.  Knight  could  be  induced  to 
bestow  on  some  work  of  his  own  the  knowledge  and  thought 
which  he  devotes  to  the  writings  of  another. 

The  editor  has  to  apologize  for  a  delay  in  the  fulfilment  of 
his  task,  which  has  arisen  necessarily  out  of' the  pressure  of 
other  avocations.  He  had  hoped  that  his  work  would  have 
been  completed  some  years  ago.  An  author  frenerally  finds 
that  his  literary  undertakings  exceed  the  -neasure  of  time 
which  he  has  assigned  to  them ;  they  grow  under  his  hand ; 
the  years  which  he  has  spent  upon  them  quickly  pass,  and  at 
last  he  too  often  fails  of  satisfying  either  himself  or  the  public 


iv  ARISTOTLE 

When  he  has  neaxly  finished,  if  ever,  he  feels  that  he  is  be- 
ginning to  have  a  greater  command  of  his  subject;  but  he 
is  obliged  to  make  an  end.  He  may  perhaps  claim  to  know 
better  than  anyone  else  the  deficiencies  of  his  own  performance ; 
but  he  knows  also  that  he  cannot  expect  to  be  heard  if  he  at- 
tempts to  excuse  them. 

It  is  a  "  regrettable  accident  "  that  this  book  will  probably 
appear  about  the  same  time  with  another  edition  of  the  "  Politics 
of  Aristotle,"  to  be  published  at  the  Clarendon  Press,  the  long 
expected  work  of  an  old  friend  and  pupil,  Mr.  Newman, 
fellow  and  formerly  tutor  of  Balliol  College,  which  would 
not  have  been  delayed  until  now,  if  the  "  bridle  of  Theages  " 
(Plato,  "  Rep."  vi.  496  b)  had  not  retarded  the  progress  of  the 
author.  Those  who  remember  the  enthusiasm  which  was 
aroused  by  his  brilliant  lectures  on  this  and  other  subjects 
a  quarter  of  a  century  ago  will  take  a  great  interest  in  the 
result  of  his  labors.  I  gladly  welcome  the  or^irfovov  rexo^ 
and  offer  hearty  wishes  for  the  success  of  the  work. 

The  editor  of  a  Greek  or  Latin  classic  generally  owes  a 
large  debt  to  his  predecessors.  In  some  one  of  them  he  will 
probably  find  the  collation  of  the  text  ready  to  his  hand,  or 
at  least  carried  to  such  an  extent  that  to  pursue  the  inquiry 
further  would  lead  to  no  adequate  result.  The  difficult  pas- 
sages have  already  been  translated  by  them  many  times  over, 
and  the  use  of  words  and  idioms  has  been  minutely  analyzed 
by  them.  There  are  innumerable  parallels  and  illustrations, 
relevant  and  also  irrelevant,  which  have  been  collected  by  their 
industry.  The  new  editor  freely  appropriates  the  materials 
which  they  have  accumulated ;  nor  can  he  greatly  add  to  them. 
He  is  no  longer  the  pioneer;  he  enters  into  the  labors  of 
others,  and  is  responsible  for  the  use  which  he  makes  of  them. 
The  field  in  which  he  has  to  work  is  limited ;  the  least  of  the 
kingdoms  into  which  physical  science  is  subdivided  is  greater 
and  more  extended.  It  is  an  ancient  branch  of  knowledge  on 
which  he  is  employed ;  a  mine,  out  of  which,  with  care,  some 
good  pieces  of  ore  may  still  be  extracted,  but  which  does  not 
yield  the  same  rich  profits  as  formerly.  And  he  is  in  danger 
of  finding  that  "  what  is  new  is  not  true,  and  that  what  is  true 
is  not  new."  He  knows  how  often  conjectures  which  cannot 
be  disproved  have  taken  the  place  of  real  knowledge.  He  can 
only  hope  that  the  constant  study  of  his  author,  the  interpreta- 


TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE  v 

tion  of  him  from  his  own  writings,  the  dismissal  of  all  preju- 
dices and  preconceptions  may  throw  some  fresh  Hght  upon 
the  page.  It  will  not  always  be  easy  for  him  to  determine 
what  he  has  thought  out  for  himself  and  what  he  has  derived 
from  others,  and  still  less  to  distinguish  what  in  former  editors 
is  their  own  and  what  they  in  turn  have  derived  from  their 
predecessors.  No  one  who  has  spent  many  years  in  the  study 
of  an  author  can  remember  whether  a  thought  occurred  to 
him  spontaneously  or  was  suggested  by  the  remark  of  another. 
There  is  therefore  the  more  reason  that  he  should  make  his 
acknowledgments  to  those  who  have  preceded  him. 

The  writer  of  these  volumes  is  under  great  obligations  to 
Schlosser,  whose  good  sense  and  manly  .criticism  are  of  great 
value  in  the  interpretation  of  the  "  Politics  " ;  he  is  also  much 
indebted  to  Schneider,  who  is  a  sound  scholar  and  a  distin- 
guished critic  both  of  Aristotle  and  Plato;  as  well  as  to  A. 
Stahr  and  Bernays,  who  have  made  accurate  and  finished  trans- 
lations, Stahr  of  the  whole  work,  Bernays  of  the  three  first 
books ;  above  all,  to  the  learning  of  Susemihl,  who  is  not  only 
the  author  of  a  new  translation,  but  has  also  made  a  fuller 
collection  of  all  the  materials  necessary,  either  for  the  study 
of  the  text  or  the  illustration  of  the  subject,  than  any  previous 
editor;  lastly  to  Immanuel  Bekker,  the  father  of  modern 
textual  criticism,  who  has  not  left  much  to  be  improved  in 
the  text  of  Aristotle.  The  commentary  of  Goettling  has  like- 
wise a  good  deal  of  merit.  I  am  indebted  for  a  few  references 
to  Mr.  Eaton's  edition  of  the  "  Politics,"  and  to  Mr.  Congreve 
for  several  excellent  English  expressions,  and  still  more  for 
his  full  and  valuable  indices. 

The  editor,  like  many  of  his  predecessors,  has  been  led  to 
the  conclusion  that  the  "  Politics  of  Aristotle  "  exists  only  in  a 
questionable  and  imperfect  shape.  He  cannot  say  that  the 
work  is  well  arranged  or  free  from  confusion  of  thought  or 
irregularities  of  style  and  language.  To  assume  a  perfection 
or  completeness  which  does  not  exist  would  contradict  facts 
which  are  obvious  on  the  surface.  The  worst  kind  of  inac- 
curacy is  pretended  accuracy.  No  progress  can  be  made  in 
the  study  of  Aristotle  by  an  art  of  interpretation  which  aims 
only  at  reconciling  an  author  with  himself.  Neither  is  there 
any  use  in  seeking  to  reconstruct  the  "  Politics  "  in  another 
form ;  no  analysis  of  the  "  Politics  "  will  enable  us  to  arrive  at 


vi  ARISTOTLE 

the  secret  of  its  composition.  We  cannot  rehabilitate  the  text 
by  a  transposition  of  sentences,  or  by  a  change  in  the  order  of 
the  books;  we  must  take  the  books  as  they  are.  Real  uncer- 
tainties are  better  than  imaginary  certainties.  Yet  the  un- 
certainty in  this  instance  is  one  of  which  the  human  mind  is 
peculiarly  impatient.  For  amid  so  much  repetition  and  con- 
fusion great  truths  are  constantly  appearing  which  reflect  the 
mind  of  the  master.  But  to  separate  these  by  any  precise  line, 
to  say  "  here  are  the  genuine  words  of  Aristotle,"  "  this  the 
later  addition,"  is  beyond  the  art  of  the  critic.  The  student  of 
Aristotle  will  do  better  to  fix  his  mind  on  the  thoughts  which 
have  had  so  vast  an  influence,  and  have  so  greatly  contributed 
to  the  progress  of  mankind,  and  not  to  inquire  too  curiously 
into  the  form  of  the  writing  which  contains  them. 

Benjamin  Jowett. 


CONTENTS 


PAGB 

Book  I i 

Book  II 22 

Book  III 54 

Book  IV 86 

Book  V "6 

Book  VI 151 

Book  VII 165 

Book  VIII 196 


THE  POLITICS 


BOOK  ! 

EVERY  state  is  a  community  of  some  kind,  and  every 
community  is  established  with  a  view  to  some  good; 
for  mankind  always  act  in  order  to  obtain  that  which 
they  think  good.  But,  if  all  communities  aim  at  some  good, 
the  state  or  political  community,  which  is  the  highest  of  all, 
and  which  embraces  all  the  rest,  aims,  and  in  a  greater  degree 
than  any  other,  at  the  highest  good. 

Now  there  is  an  erroneous  opinion  cr  that  a  statesman,  king, 
householder,  and  master  are  the  same,  and  that  they  diflfer,  not 
in  kind,  but  only  in  the  number  of  their  subjects.  For  ex- 
ample, the  ruler  over  a  few  called  a  master;  over  more,  the 
manager  of  a  household ;  over  a  still  larger  number,  a  states- 
man or  king,  as  if  there  were  no  difference  between  a  great 
household  and  a  small  state.  The  distinction  which  is  made 
between  the  king  and  the  statesman  is  as  follows :  When  the 
government  is  personal,  the  ruler  is  a  king;  when,  according 
to  the  principles  of  the  political  science,  the  citizens  rule  and 
are  ruled  in  turn,  then  he  is  called  a  statesman. 

But  all  this  is  a  mistake ;  for  governments  diflfer  in  kind,  as 
will  be  evident  to  any  one  who  considers  the  matter  according 
to  the  method  which  has  hitherto  guided  us.  As  in  other  de- 
partments of  science,  so  in  politics,  the  compound  should  al- 
ways be  resolved  into  the  simple  elements  or  least  parts  of  the 
whole.  We  must  therefore  look  at  the  elements  of  which  the 
state  is  composed,  in  order  that  we  may  see  in  what  they  differ 
from  one  another,  and  whether  any  scientific  distinction  can  be 
drawn  between  the  different  kinds  of  rule. 

He  who  thus  considers  things  in  their  first  growth  and  origin, 
whether  a  state  or  anything  else,  will  obtain  the  clearest  view  of 
them.     In  the  first  place  (i)  there  must  be  a  union  of  those  who 
o  Cp.  Plato,  Politicus,  258  E  foil. 
I 


9  ARISTOTLE 

cannot  exist  without  each  other;  for  example,  of  male  and 
female,  that  the  race  may  continue ;  and  this  is  a  union  which 
is  formed,  not  of  deliberate  purpose,  but  because,  in  common 
with  other  animals  and  with  plants,  mankind  have  a  natural 
Jesire  to  leave  behind  them  an  image  of  themselves.  And  (2) 
there  must  be  a  union  of  natural  ruler  and  subject,  that  both 
may  be  preserved.  For  he  who  can  foresee  with  his  mind  is  by 
nature  intended  to  be  lord  and  master,  and  he  who  can  work 
with  his  body  is  a  subject,  and  by  nature  a  slave ;  hence  master 
and  slave  have  the  same  interest.  Nature,  however,  has  distin- 
guished between  the  female  and  the  slave.  For  she  is  not  nig- 
gardly, like  the  smith  who  fashions  the  Delphian  knife  for  many 
uses ;  she  makes  each  thing  for  a  single  use,  and  every  instru- 
ment is  best  made  when  intended  for  one  and  not  for  many 
uses.  But  among  barbarians  no  distinction  is  made  between 
women  and  slaves,  because  there  is  no  natural  ruler  among 
them:  they  are  a  community  of  slaves,  male  and  female. 
Wherefore  the  poets  say — 

"  It  is  meet  that  Hellenes  should  rule  over  barbarians ;"  b 

as  if  they  thought  that  the  barbarian  and  the  slave  were  by 
nature  one. 

Out  of  these  two  relationships  between  man  and  woman, 
master  and  slave,  the  family  first  arises,  and  Hesiod  is  right 
when  he  says — 

"  First  house  and  wife  and  an  ox  for  the  plough,*'  c 

for  the  ox  is  the  poor  man's  slave.  The  family  is  the  associa- 
tion established  by  nature  for  the  supply  of  men's  every  day 
wants,  and  the  members  of  it  are  called  by  Charondas  "  com- 
panions of  the  cupboard  "  [ofioa-mvov^],  and  by  Epimenides 
the  Cretan,  "  companions  of  the  manger  "  [ofioKairovi].  But 
when  several  families  are  united,  and  the  association  aims  at 
something  more  than  the  supply  of  daily  needs,  then  comes  into 
existence  the  village.  And  the  most  natural  form  of  the  village 
appears  to  be  that  of  a  colony  from  the  family,  composed  of  the 
children  and  grandchildren,  who  are  said  to  be  "  suckled  with 
the  same  milk."  And  this  is  the  reason  why  Hellenic  states 
were  originally  governed  by  kings ;  because  the  Hellenes  were 
under  royal  rule  before  they  came  together,  as  the  barbarians 

b  Eurip.  Iphig.  in  Aulid.  1400,  C  Op.  et  Di.  405. 


THE  POLITICS  3 

Still  are.  Every  family  is  ruled  by  the  eldest,  and  therefore  in 
the  colonies  of  the  family  the  kingly  form  of  government  pre- 
vailed because  they  were  of  the  same  blood.  As  Homer  says 
[of  the  Cyclopes] : — 

"  Each  one  gives  law  to  his  children  and  to  his  wives,"  d 

For  they  lived  dispersedly,  as  was  the  manner  in  ancient  times. 
Wherefore  men  say  that  the  Gods  have  a  king,  because  they 
themselves  either  are  or  were  in  ancient  times  under  the  rule  of 
a  king.  For  they  imagine,  not  only  the  forms  of  the  Gods,  but 
their  ways  of  life  to  be  like  their  own. 

When  several  villages  are  united  in  a  single  community,  per- 
fect and  large  enough  to  be  nearly  or  quite  self-sufficing,  the 
state  comes  into  existence,  originating  in  the  bare  needs  of  life, 
and  continuing  in  existence  for  the  sake  of  a  good  life.  And 
therefore,  if  the  earlier  forms  of  society  are  natural,  so  is  the 
state,  for  it  is  the  end  of  them,  and  the  [completed]  nature  is 
the  end.  For  what  each  thing  is  when  fully  developed,  we  call 
its  nature,  whether  we  are  speaking  of  a  man,  a  horse,  or  a  fam- 
ily. Besides,  the  final  cause  and  end  of  a  thing  is  the  best,  and 
to  be  self-sufficing  is  the  end  and  the  best. 

Hence  it  is  evident  that  the  state  is  a  creation  of  nature,  and 
that  man  is  by  nature  a  political  animal.  And  he  who  by  nature 
and  not  by  mere  accident  is  without  a  state,  is  either  above 
humanity,  or  below  it ;  he  is  the 

"  Tribeless,  lawless,  heartless  one," 

whom  Homer  e  denounces — the  outcast  who  is  a  lover  of  war ; 
he  may  be  compared  to  a  bird  which  flies  alone. 

Now  the  reason  why  man  is  more  of  a  political  animal  than 
bees  or  any  other  gregarious  animals  is  evident.  Nature,  as  we 
often  say,  makes  nothing  in  vain,  and  man  is  the  only  animal 
whom  she  has  endowed  with  the  gift  of  speech.  And  whereas 
mere  sound  is  but  an  indication  of  pleasure  or  pain,  and  is  there- 
fore found  in  other  animals  (for  their  nature  attains  to  the  per- 
ception of  pleasure  and  pain  and  the  intimation  of  them  to  one 
another,  and  no  further),  the  power  of  speech  is  intended  to  set 
forth  the  expedient  and  inexpedient,  and  likewise  the  just  and 
the  unjust.     And  it  is  a  characteristic  of  man  that  he  alone  has 

d  Od.  ix.  114,  quoted  by  Plato  Laws,  iii.  680,  and  in  N.  Eth.  x.  9.  813. 
r  II.  ix.  63. 


4  ARISTOTLE 

any  sense  of  good  and  evil,  of  just  and  unjust,  and  the  associa- 
tion of  living  beings  who  have  this  sense  makes  a  family  and  a 
state. 

Thus  the  state  is  by  nature  clearly  prior  to  the  family  and 
to  the  individual,  since  the  whole  is  of  necessity  prior  to  the 
part ;  for  example,  if  the  whole  body  be  destroyed,  there  will  be 
no  foot  or  hand,  except  in  an  equivocal  sense,  as  we  might 
speak  of  a  stone  hand ;  for  when  destroyed  the  hand  will  be  no 
better.  But  things  are  defined  by  their  working  and  power; 
and  we  ought  not  to  say  that  they  are  the  same  when  they  are 
no  longer  the  same,  but  only  that  they  have  the  same  name. 
The  proof  that  the  state  is  a  creation  of  nature  and  prior  to  the 
individual  is  that  the  individual,  when  isolated,  is  not  self-suffi- 
cing; and  therefore  he  is  like  a  part  in  relation  to  the  whole. 
But  he  who  is  unable  to  live  in  society,  or  who  has  no  need  be- 
cause he  is  sufficient  for  himself,  must  be  either  a  beast  or  a 
god :  he  is  no  part  of  a  state.  A  social  instinct  is  implanted  in 
all  men  by  nature,  and  yet  he  who  first  founded  the  state  was 
the  greatest  of  benefactors.  For  man,  when  perfected,  is  the 
best  of  animals,  but,  when  separated  from  law  and  justice,  he 
is  the  worst  of  all ;  since  armed  injustice  is  the  more  dangerous, 
and  he  is  equipped  at  birth  with  the  arms  of  intelligence  and 
with  moral  qualities  which  he  may  use  for  the  worst  ends. 
Wherefore,  if  he  have  not  virtue,  he  is  the  most  unholy  and  the 
most  savage  of  animals,  and  the  most  full  of  lust  and  gluttony. 
But  justice  is  the  bond  of  men  in  states,  and  the  administration 
of  justice,  which  is  the  determination  of  what  is  just,^  is  the 
principle  of  order  in  political  society. 

Seeing  then  that  the  state  is  made  up  of  households,  before 
speaking  of  the  state,  we  must  speak  of  the  management  of  the 
household.  The  parts  of  the  household  are  the  persons  who 
compose  it,  and  a  complete  household  consists  of  slaves  and 
freemen.  Now  we  should  begin  by  examining  everything  in 
its  least  elements ;  and  the  first  and  least  parts  of  a  family  are 
master  and  slave,  husband  and  wife,  father  and  children.  We 
have  therefore  to  consider  what  each  of  these  three  relations  is 
and  ought  to  be : — I  mean  the  relation  of  master  and  servant, 
of  husband  and  wife,  and  thirdly  of  parent  and  child.  [I  say 
yafiiKi]  and  reKvoTroirjTiKrj  there  being  no  words  for  the  two 
latter  notions  which  adequately  represent  them.]  And  there 
/  Cp.  N.  Eth.  V.  6.  5  4. 


THE  POLITICS  5 

is  another  element  of  a  household,  the  so-called  art  of  money- 
making,  which,  according  to  some,  is  identical  with  household 
management,  according  to  others,  a  principal  part  of  it;  the 
nature  of  this  art  will  also  have  to  be  considered  by  us. 

Let  us  first  speak  of  master  and  slave,  looking  to  the  needs 
of  practical  life  and  also  seeking  to  attain  some  better  theory 
of  their  relation  than  exists  at  present.  For  some  are  of  opin- 
ion that  the  rule  of  a  master  is  a  science,  and  that  the  manage- 
ment of  a  household,  and  the  mastership  of  slaves,  and  the  po- 
litical and  royal  rule,  as  I  was  saying  at  the  outset,^  are  all  the 
same.  Others  affirm  that  the  rule  of  a  master  over  slaves  is 
contrary  to  nature,  and  that  the  distinction  between  slave  and 
freeman  exists  by  law  only,  and  not  by  nature ;  and  being  an 
interference  with  nature  is  therefore  unjust. 

Property  is  a  part  of  the  household,  and  therefore  the  art  of 
acquiring  property  is  a  part  of  the  art  of  managing  the  house- 
hold ;  for  no  man  can  live  well,  or  indeed  live  at  all,  unless  he 
be  provided  with  necessaries.  Ana  as  in  the  arts  which  have 
a  definite  sphere  the  workers  must  have  their  own  proper  instru- 
ments for  the  accomplishment  of  their  work,  so  it  is  in  the  man- 
agement of  a  household.  Now,  instruments  are  of  various 
sorts ;  some  are  living,  others  lifeless ;  in  the  rudder,  the  pilot 
of  a  ship  has  a  lifeless,  in  the  look-out  man,  a  living  instrument; 
for  in  the  arts  the  servant  is  a  kind  of  instrument.  Thus,  too, 
a  possession  is  an  instrument  for  maintaining  life.  And  so,  in 
the  arrangement  of  the  family,  a  slave  is  a  living  possession, 
and  property  a  number  of  such  instruments ;  and  the  servant  is 
himself  an  instrument,  which  takes  precedence  of  all  other  in- 
struments. For  if  every  instrument  could  accomplish  its  own 
work,  obeying  or  anticipating  the  will  of  others,  like  the  statues 
of  Daedalus,  or  the  tripods  of  Hephaestus,  which,  says  the  poet,A 

"  of  their  own  accord  entered  the  assembly  of  the  Gods ;  " 

if,  in  like  manner,  the  shuttle  would  weave  and  the  plectrum 
touch  the  lyre  without  a  hand  to  guide  them,  chief  workmen 
would  not  want  servants,  nor  masters  slaves.  Here,  however, 
another  distinction  must  be  drawn :  the  instruments  commonly 
so  called  are  instruments  of  production,  whilst  a  possession  is 
an  instrument  of  action.  The  shuttle,  for  example,  is  not  only 
of  use ;  but  something  else  is  made  by  it,  whereas  of  a  garment 
g  Plato  in  Pol.  258  e  foil.  h  Horn.  II.  xviii.  376. 


i  ARISTOTLE 

or  of  a  bed  there  is  only  the  use.  Further,  as  production  and 
action  are  different  in  kind,  and  both  require  instruments,  the 
instruments  which  they  employ  must  likewise  differ  in  kind. 
But  life  is  action  and  not  production,  and  therefore  the  slave  is 
the  minister  of  action  [for  he  ministers  to  his  master's  life]. 
Again,  a  possession  is  spoken  of  as  a  part  is  spoken  of ;  for  the 
part  is  not  only  a  part  of  something  else,  but  wholly  belongs 
to  it ;  and  this  is  also  true  of  a  possession.  The  master  is  only 
the  master  of  the  slave ;  he  does  not  belong  to  him,  whereas  the 
slave  is  not  only  the  slave  of  his  master,  but  wholly  belongs  to 
him.  Hence  we  see  what  is  the  nature  and  office  of  a  slave ;  he 
who  is  by  nature  not  his  own  but  another's  and  yet  a  man,  is 
by  nature  a  slave;  and  he  may  be  said  to  belong  to  another 
who,  being  a  human  being,  is  also  a  possession.  And  a  pos- 
session may  be  defined  as  an  instrument  of  action,  separable 
from  the  possessor. 

But  is  there  any  thus  intended  by  nature  to  be  a  slave,  and 
for  whom  such  a  condition  is  expedient  and  right,  or  rather  is 
not  all  slavery  a  violation  of  nature  ? 

There  is  no  difficulty  in  answering  this  question,  on  grounds 
both  of  reason  and  of  fact.  For  that  some  should  rule,  and 
others  be  ruled  is  a  thing,  not  only  necessary,  but  expedient ; 
from  the  hour  of  their  birth,  some  are  marked  out  for  subjection, 
others  for  rule. 

And  whereas  there  are  many  kinds  both  of  rulers  and  sub- 
jects, that  rule  is  the  better  which  is  exercised  over  better  sub- 
jects— for  example,  to  rule  over  men  is  better  than  to  rule  over 
wild  beasts.  The  work  is  better  which  is  executed  by  better 
workmen ;  and  where  one  man  rules  and  another  is  ruled,  they 
may  be  said  to  have  a  work.  In  all  things  which  form  a  com- 
posite whole  and  which  are  made  up  of  parts,  whether  continu- 
ous or  discrete,  a  distinction  between  the  ruling  and  the  subject 
element  comes  to  light.  Such  a  duality  exists  in  living  creat- 
ures, but  not  in  them  only ;  it  originates  in  the  constitution  of 
the  universe ;  even  in  things  which  have  no  life,  there  is  a  ruling 
principle,  as  in  musical  harmony.  But  we  are  wandering  from 
the  subject.  We  will,  therefore,  restrict  ourselves  to  the  living 
creature  which,  in  the  first  place,  consists  of  soul  and  body :  and 
of  these  two,  the  one  is  by  nature  the  ruler,  and  the  other  the 
subject.  But  then  we  must  look  for  the  intentions  of  nature 
in  things  which  retain  their  nature,  and  not  in  things  which  are 


THE  POLITICS  7 

corrupted.  And  therefore  we  must  study  the  man  who  is  in 
the  most  perfect  state  both  of  body  and  soul,  for  in  him  we  shall 
see  the  true  relation  of  the  two ;  although  in  bad  or  corrupted 
natures  the  body  will  often  appear  to  rule  over  the  soul,  be- 
cause they  are  in  an  evil  and  unnatural  condition.  First  then 
we  may  observe  in  living  creatures  both  a  despotical  and  a  con- 
stitutional rule ;  for  the  soul  rules  the  body  with  a  despotical 
rule,  whereas  the  intellect  rules  the  appetites  with  a  constitu- 
tional and  royal  rule.  And  it  is  clear  that  the  rule  of  the  soul 
over  the  body,  and  of  the  mind  and  the  rational  element  over 
the  passionate  is  natural  and  expedient;  whereas  the  equality 
of  the  two  or  the  rule  of  the  inferior  is  always  hurtful.  The 
same  holds  good  of  animals  as  well  as  of  men ;  for  tame  animals 
have  a  better  nature  than  wild,  and  all  tame  animals  are  better 
off  when  they  are  ruled  by  man ;  for  then  they  are  preserved. 
Again,  the  male  is  by  nature  superior,  and  the  female  inferior ; 
and  the  one  rules,  and  the  other  is  ruled ;  this  principle,  of  ne- 
cessity, extends  to  all  mankind.  Where  then  there  is  such  a 
difference  as  that  between  soul  and  body,  or  between  men  and 
animals  (as  in  the  case  of  those  whose  business  is  to  use  their 
body,  and  who  can  do  nothing  better),  the  lower  sort  are  by 
nature  slaves,  and  it  is  better  for  them  as  for  all  inferiors  that 
they  should  be  under  the  rule  of  a  master.  For  he  who  can  be, 
and  therefore  is  another's,  and  he  who  participates  in  reason 
enough  to  apprehend,  but  not  to  have,  reason,  is  a  slave  by 
nature.  Whereas  the  lower  animals  cannot  even  apprehend 
reason ;  they  obey  their  instincts.  And  indeed  the  use  made  of 
slaves  and  of  tame  animals  is  not  very  different ;  for  both  with 
their  bodies  minister  to  the  needs  of  life.  Nature  would  like 
to  distinguish  between  the  bodies  of  freemen  and  slaves,  mak- 
ing the  one  strong  for  servile  labor,  the  other  upright,  and  al- 
though useless  for  such  services,  useful  for  political  life  in  the 
arts  both  of  war  and  peace.  But  this  does  not  hold  universally : 
for  some  slaves  have  the  souls  and  others  have  the  bodies  of 
freemen.  And  doubtless  if  men  differed  from  one  another  in 
the  mere  forms  of  their  bodies  as  much  as  the  statues  of  the 
Gods  do  from  men,  all  would  acknowledge  that  the  inferior 
class  should  be  slaves  of  the  superior.  And  if  there  is  a  differ- 
ence in  the  body,  how  much  more  in  the  soul  ?  but  the  beauty 
of  the  body  is  seen,  whereas  the  beauty  of  the  soul  is  not  seen. 
It  is  clear,  then,  that  some  men  are  by  nature  free,  and  others 


8  ARISTOTLE 

slaves,  and  that  for  these  latter  slavery  is  both  expedient  and 
right. 

But  that  those  who  take  the  opposite  view  have  in  a  certain 
way  right  on  their  side,  may  he  easily  seen.  For  the  words 
slavery  and  slave  are  used  in  two  senses.  There  is  a  slave  or 
slavery  by  law  as  well  as  by  nature.  The  law  of  which  I  speak  is 
a  sort  of  convention,  according  to  which  whatever  is  taken  in 
war  is  supposed  to  belong  to  the  victors.  But  this  right  many 
jurists  impeach,  as  they  would  an  orator  who  brought  forward 
an  unconstitutional  measure:  they  detest  the  notion  that,  be- 
cause one  man  has  the  power  of  doing  violence  and  is  superior  in 
brute  strength,  another  shall  be  his  slave  and  subject.  Even 
among  philosophers  there  is  a  difference  of  opinion.  The  or- 
igin of  the  dispute,  and  the  reason  why  the  arguments  cross,  is 
as  follows :  Virtue,  when  furnished  with  means,  may  be  deemed 
to  have  the  greatest  power  of  doing  violence :  and  as  superior 
power  is  only  found  where  there  is  superior  excellence  of  some 
kind,  power  is  thought  to  imply  virtue.  But  does  it  likewise 
imply  justice  ?— that  is  the  question.  And,  in  order  to  make  a 
distinction  between  them,  some  assert  that  justice  is  benevo- 
lence :  to  which  others  reply  that  justice  is  nothing  more  than 
the  rule  of  a  superior.  If  the  two  views  are  regarded  as  an- 
tagonistic and  exclusive  [i.e.  if  the  notion  that  justice  is  benev- 
olence excludes  the  idea  of  a  just  rule  of  a  superior] ,  the  alter- 
native [viz.  that  no  one  should  rule  over  others]  has  no  force 
or  plausibility,  because  it  implies  that  not  even  the  superior  in 
virtue  ought  to  rule,  or  be  master.  Some,  clinging,  as  they 
think,  to  a  principle  of  justice  (for  law  and  custom  are  a  sort  of 
justice),  assume  that  slavery  in  war  is  justified  by  law,  but  they 
are  not  consistent.  For  what  if  the  cause  of  the  war  be  unjust? 
No  one  would  ever  say  that  he  is  a  slave  who  is  unworthy  to  be 
a  slave.  Were  this  the  case,  men  of  the  highest  rank  would  be 
slaves  and  the  children  of  slaves  if  they  or  their  parents  chance 
to  have  been  taken  captive  and  sold.  Wherefore  Hellenes  do 
not  like  to  call  themselves  slaves,  but  confine  the  term  to  bar- 
barians. Yet,  in  using  this  language,  they  really  mean  the 
natural  slave  of  whom  we  spoke  at  first;  for  it  must  be  ad- 
mitted that  some  are  slaves  everywhere,  others  nowhere.  The 
same  principle  applies  to  nobility.  Hellenes  regard  themselves 
as  noble  everywhere,  and  not  only  in  their  own  country,  but  they 
deem  the  barbarians  noble  only  when  at  home,  thereby  implying 


THE  POLITICS  9 

that  there  are  two  sorts  of  nobility  and  freedom,  the  one  abso- 
lute, the  other  relative.    The  Helen  of  Theodectes  says ; — 

"  Who  would  presume  to  call  me  servant  who  am  on  both  sides  sprung 
from  the  stem  of  the  Gods  ?  " 

What  does  this  mean  but  that  they  distinguish  freedom  and 
slavery,  noble  and  humble  birth,  by  the  two  principles  of  good 
and  evil?  They  think  that  as  men  and  animals  beget  men  and 
animals,  so  from  good  men  a  good  man  springs.  But  this  is 
what  nature,  though  she  may  intend  it,  cannot  always  accom- 
plish. 

We  see  then  that  there  is  some  foundation  for  this  difference 
of  opinion,  and  that  all  are  not  either  slaves  by  nature  or  free- 
men by  nature,  and  also  that  there  is  in  some  cases  a  marked 
distinction  between  the  two  classes,  rendering  it  expedient  and 
right  for  the  one  to  be  slaves  and  the  others  to  be  masters :  the 
one  practising  obedience,  the  others  exercising  the  authority 
which  nature  intended  them  to  have.  The  abuse  of  this  au- 
thority is  injurious  to  both ;  for  the  interests  of  part  and  whole, 
of  body  and  soul,  are  the  same,  and  the  slave  is  a  part  of  the 
master,  a  living  but  separated  part  of  his  bodily  frame.  Where 
the  relation  between  them  is  natural  they  are  friends  and  have 
a  common  interest,  but  where  it  rests  merely  on  law  and  force 
the  reverse  is  true. 

The  previous  remarks  are  quite  enough  to  show  that  the  rule 
of  a  master  is  not  a  constitutional  rule,  and  therefore  that  all 
the  different  kinds  of  rule  are  not,  as  some  affirm,  the  same  with 
each  other.*  For  there  is  one  rule  exercised  over  subjects  who 
are  by  nature  free,  another  over  subjects  who  are  by  nature 
slaves.  The  rule  of  a  household  is  a  monarchy,  for  every  house 
is  under  one  head :  whereas  constitutional  rule  is  a  government 
of  freemen  and  equals.  The  master  is  not  called  a  master  be- 
cause he  has  science,  but  because  he  is  of  a  certain  character,  and 
the  same  remark  applies  to  the  slave  and  the  freeman.  Still 
there  may  be  a  science  for  the  master  and  a  science  for  the  slave. 
The  science  of  the  slave  would  be  such  as  the  man  of  Syracuse 
taught,  who  made  money  by  instructing  slaves  in  their  ordi- 
nary duties.  And  such  a  knowledge  may  be  carried  further,  so 
as  to  include  cookery  and  similar  menial  arts.  For  some  duties 
are  of  the  more  necessary,  others  of  the  more  honorable  sort; 

i  Plato,  Polit.  258  E  foil. 


to  ARISTOTLE 

as  the  proverb  says,  "  slave  before  slave,  master  before  master.'* 
But  all  such  branches  of  knowledge  are  servile.  There  is  like- 
wise a  science  of  the  master,  which  teaches  the  use  of  slaves; 
for  the  master  as  such  is  concerned,  not  with  the  acquisition,  but 
with  the  use  of  them.  Yet  this  so-called  science  is  not  any- 
thing great  or  wonderful ;  for  the  master  need  only  know  how 
to  order  that  which  the  slave  must  know  how  to  execute.  Hence 
those  who  are  in  a  position  which  places  them  above  toil,  have 
stewards  who  attend  to  their  households  while  they  occupy 
themselves  with  philosophy  or  with  politics.  But  the  art  of 
acquiring  slaves,  I  mean  of  justly  acquiring  them,  differs  both 
from  the  art  of  the  master  and  the  art  of  the  slave,  being  a 
species  of  hunting  or  war.  Enough  of  the  distinction  between 
master  and  slave. 

Let  us  now  inquire  into  property  generally,  and  into  the  art 
of  money-making,  in  accordance  with  our  usual  method  [of 
resolving  a  whole  into  its  parts],  for  a  slave  has  been  shown 
to  be  a  part  of  property.  The  first  question  is  whether  the  art  of 
money-making  is  the  same  with  the  art  of  managing  a  house- 
hold or  a  part  of  it,  or  instrumental  to  it ;  and  if  the  last,  whether 
in  the  way  that  the  art  of  making  shuttles  is  instrumental  to 
the  art  of  weaving,  or  in  the  way  that  the  casting  of  bronze  is 
instrumental  to  the  art  of  the  statuary,  for  they  are  not  instru- 
mental in  the  same  way,  but  the  one  provides  tools  and  the  other 
material ;  and  by  material  I  mean  the  substratum  out  of  which 
any  work  is  made ;  thus  wool  is  the  material  of  the  weaver, 
bronze  of  the  statuary.  Now  it  is  easy  to  see  that  the  art  of 
household  management  is  not  identical  with  the  art  of  money- 
making,  for  the  one  uses  the  material  which  the  other  provides. 
And  the  art  which  uses  household  stores  can  be  no  other  than 
the  art  of  household  management.  There  is,  however,  a  doubt 
whether  the  art  of  money-making  is  a  part  of  household  man- 
agement or  a  distinct  art.  [They  appear  to  be  connected]  ;  for 
the  money-maker  has  to  consider  whence  money  and  property 
can  be  procured ;  but  there  are  many  sorts  of  property  and 
wealth : — there  is  husbandry  and  the  care  and  provision  of 
food  in  general;  are  these  parts  of  the  money-making  art  or 
distinct  arts?  Again,  there  are  many  sorts  of  food,  and  there- 
fore there  are  many  kinds  of  lives  both  of  animals  and  men; 
they  must  all  have  food,  and  the  differences  in  their  food  have 
made  differences  in  their  ways  of  life.    For  of  beasts,  some  arc 


THE  POLITICS  11 

gregarious,  others  are  solitary;  they  live  in  the  way  which  is 
best  adapted  to  sustain  them,  accordingly  as  they  are  carnivor- 
ous or  herbivorous  or  omnivorous :  and  their  habits  are  deter- 
mined for  them  by  nature  in  such  a  manner  that  they  may  obtain 
with  greater  facility  the  food  of  their  choice.  But,  as  differ- 
ent individuals  have  different  tastes,  the  same  things  are  not 
naturally  pleasant  to  all  of  them ;  and  therefore  the  lives  of  car- 
nivorous or  herbivorous  animals  further  differ  among  them- 
selves. In  the  lives  of  men  too  there  is  a  great  difference.  The 
laziest  are  shepherds,  who  lead  an  idle  life,  and  get  their  sub- 
sistence without  trouble  from  tame  animals ;  their  flocks  having 
to  wander  from  place  to  place  in  search  of  pasture,  they  are 
compelled  to  follow  them,  cultivating  a  sort  of  living  farm. 
Others  support  themselves  by  hunting,  which  is  of  different 
kinds.  Some,  for  example,  are  pirates,  others,  who  dwell  near 
lakes  or  marshes  or  rivers  or  a  sea  in  which  there  are  fish,  are 
fishermen,  and  others  live  by  the  pursuit  of  birds  or  wild  beasts. 
The  greater  number  obtain  a  living  from  the  fruits  of  the  soil. 
Such  are  the  modes  of  subsistence  which  prevail  among  those 
whose  industry  is  employed  immediately  upon  the  products  of 
nature,;  and  whose  food  is  not  acquired  by  exchange  and  re- 
tail trade — there  is  the  shepherd,  the  husbandman,  the  pirate, 
the  fisherman,  the  hunter.  Some  gain  a  comfortable  main- 
tenance out  of  two  employments,  eking  out  the  deficiencies  of 
one  of  them  by  another:  thus  the  life  of  a  shepherd  may  be 
combined  with  that  of  a  brigand,  the  life  of  a  farmer  with  that 
of  a  hunter.  Other  modes  of  life  are  similarly  combined  in  any 
way  which  the  needs  of  men  may  require.  Property,  in  the 
sense  of  a  bare  livelihood,  seems  to  be  given  by  nature  herself  to 
all,  both  when  they  are  first  born,  and  when  they  are  grown  up. 
For  some  animals  bring  forth,  together  with  their  offspring,  so 
much  food  as  will  last  until  they  are  able  to  supply  themselves ; 
of  this  the  vermiparous  or  oviparous  animals  are  an  instance; 
and  the  viviparous  animals  have  up  to  a  certain  time  a  supply 
of  food  for  their  young  in  themselves,  which  is  called  milk.  In 
like  manner  we  may  infer  that,  after  the  birth  of  anim.als,  plants 
exist  for  their  sake,  and  that  the  other  animals  exist  for  the  sake 
of  man,  the  tame  for  use  and  food,  the  wild,  if  not  all,  at  least 
the  greater  part  of  them,  for  food,  and  for  the  provision  of  cloth- 
ing and  various  instruments.  Now  if  nature  makes  nothing  in- 
y  Or,  "  whose  labor  is  personal." 


18  ARISTOTLE 

complete,  and  nothing  in  vain,  the  inference  must  be  that  she 
has  made  all  animals  and  plants  for  the  sake  of  man.  And  so, 
in  one  point  of  view,  the  art  of  war  is  a  natural  art  of  acquisition, 
for  it  includes  hunting,  an  art  which  we  ought  to  practise 
against  wild  beasts,  and  against  men  who,  though  intended  by 
nature  to  be  governed,  will  not  submit ;  for  war  of  such  a  kind 
is  naturally  just. 

Of  the  art  of  acquisition  then  there  is  one  kind  which  is 
natural  and  is  a  part  of  the  management  of  a  household.  Either 
we  must  suppose  the  necessaries  of  life  to  exist  previously,  or 
the  art  of  household  management  must  provide  a  store  of  them 
for  the  common  use  of  the  family  or  State.  They  are  the  ele- 
ments of  true  wealth;  for  the  amount  of  property  which  is 
needed  for  a  good  life  is  not  unlimited,  although  Solon  in  one 
of  his  poems  says  that 

"  No  bound  to  riches  has  been  fixed  for  man."  k 

But  there  is  a  boundary  fixed,  just  as  there  is  in  the  arts ;  for 
the  instruments  of  any  art  are  never  unlimited,  either  in  number 
or  size,  and  wealth  may  be  defined  as  a  number  of  instruments 
to  be  used  in  a  household  or  in  a  State.  And  so  we  see  that 
there  is  a  natural  art  of  acquisition  which  is  practised  by  man- 
agers of  households  and  by  statesmen,  and  what  is  the  reason 
of  this. 

There  is  another  variety  of  the  art  of  acquisition  which  is 
commonly  and  rightly  called  the  art  of  making  money,  and  has 
in  fact  suggested  the  notion  that  wealth  and  property  have  no 
limit.  Being  nearly  connected  with  the  preceding,  it  is  often 
identified  with  it.  But  though  they  are  not  very  different, 
neither  are  they  the  same.  The  kind  already  described  is 
given  by  nature,  the  other  is  gained  by  experience  and  art. 

Let  us  beg^n  our  discussion  of  the  question  with  the  following 
considerations : — 

Of  everything  which  we  possess  there  are  two  uses:  both 
belong  to  the  thing  as  such,  but  not  in  the  same  manner,  for  one 
is  the  proper,  and  the  other  the  improper  or  secondary  use  of 
it.  For  example,  a  shoe  is  used  for  wear,  and  is  used  for  ex- 
change ;  both  are  uses  of  the  shoe.  He  who  gives  a  shoe  in  ex- 
change for  money  or  food  to  him  who  wants  one,  does  indeed 
use  the  shoe  as  a  shoe,  but  this  is  not  its  proper  or  primary  pur- 

k  Bergk,  "  Poet.  Lyr.  Solon,"  iv.  12,  v.  71. 


THE   POLITICS  13 

pose,  for  a  shoe  is  not  made  to  be  an  object  of  barter.  The  same 
may  be  said  of  all  possessions,  for  the  art  of  exchange  extends 
to  all  of  them,  and  it  arises  at  first  in  a  natural  manner  from  the 
circumstance  that  some  have  too  little,  others  too  much.  Hence 
we  may  infer  that  retail  trade  is  not  a  natural  part  of  the  art  of 
money-making;  had  it  been  so,  men  would  have  ceased  to  ex- 
change when  they  had  enough.  And  in  the  first  community, 
which  is  the  family,  this  art  is  obviously  of  no  use,  but  only  be- 
gins to  be  useful  when  the  society  increases.  For  the  members 
of  the  family  originally  had  all  things  in  common ;  in  a  more  di- 
vided state  of  society  they  still  shared  in  many  things,  but  they 
were  different  things  i  which  they  had  to  give  in  exchange  for 
what  they  wanted,  a  kind  of  barter  which  is  still  practised  among 
barbarous  nations  who  exchange  with  one  another  the  neces- 
saries of  life  and  nothing  more ;  giving  and  receiving  wine,  for 
example,  in  exchange  for  corn  and  the  like.  This  sort  of  barter 
is  not  part  of  the  money-making  art  and  is  not  contrary  to 
nature,  but  is  needed  for  the  satisfaction  of  men's  natural  wants. 
The  other  or  more  complex  form  of  exchange  grew  out  of  the 
simpler.  When  the  inhabitants  of  one  country  became  more 
dependent  on  those  of  another,  and  they  imported  what  they 
needed,  and  exported  the  surplus,  money  necessarily  came  into 
use.  For  the  various  necessaries  of  life  are  not  easily  carried 
about,  and  hence  men  agreed  to  employ  in  their  dealings  with 
each  other  something  which  was  intrinsically  useful  and  easily 
applicable  to  the  purposes  of  life,  for  example,  iron,  silver,  and 
the  like.  Of  this  the  value  was  at  first  measured  by  size  and 
weight,  but  in  process  of  time  they  put  a  stamp  upon  it,  to  save 
the  trouble  of  weighing  and  to  mark  the  value. 

When  the  use  of  coin  had  once  been  discovered,  out  of  the 
barter  of  necessary  articles  arose  the  other  art  of  money-mak- 
ing, namely,  retail  trade ;  which  was  at  first  probably  a  simple 
matter,  but  became  more  complicated  as  soon  as  men  learned 
by  experience  whence  and  by  what  exchanges  the  greatest  profit 
might  be  made.  Originating  in  the  use  of  coin,  the  art  of 
money-making  is  generally  thought  to  be  chiefly  concerned  with 
it,  and  to  be  the  art  which  produces  wealth  and  money ;  having 
to  consider  how  they  may  be  accumulated.  Indeed,  wealth  is 
assumed  by  many  to  be  only  a  quantity  of  coin,  because  the  art 
of  money-making  and  retail  trade  are  concerned  with  coin. 
/  Or,  more  simply,  "  shared  in  many  more  things." 


14 


ARISTOTLE 


Others  maintain  that  coined  money  is  a  mere  sham,  a  thing  not 
natural,  but  conventional  only,  which  would  have  no  value  or 
use  for  any  of  the  purposes  of  daily  life  if  another  commodity 
were  substituted  by  the  users.  And,  indeed,  he  who  is  rich  in 
coin  may  often  be  in  want  of  necessary  food.  But  how  can  that 
be  wealth  of  which  a  man  may  have  a  great  abundance  and  yet 
perish  with  hunger,  like  Midas  in  the  fable,  whose  insatiable 
prayer  turned  everything  that  was  set  before  him  into  gold? 

Men  seek  after  a  better  notion  of  wealth  and  of  the  art  of 
making  money  than  the  mere  acquisition  of  coin,  and  they  are 
right.  For  natural  wealth  and  the  natural  art  of  money-mak- 
ing are  a  different  thing;  in  their  true  form  they  are  part  of 
the  management  of  a  household ;  whereas  retail  trade  is  the  art 
of  producing  wealth,  not  in  every  way,  but  by  exchange.  And 
it  seems  to  be  concerned  with  coin ;  for  coin  is  the  beginning  of 
exchange  and  the  measure  or  limit  of  it.  And  there  is  no  bound 
to  the  wealth  which  springs  from  this  art  of  money-making. 
As  in  the  art  of  medicine  there  is  no  limit  to  the  pursuit  of 
health,  and  as  in  the  other  arts  there  is  no  limit  to  the  pursuit  of 
their  several  ends,  for  they  aim  at  accomplishing  their  ends  to 
the  uttermost ;  (but  of  the  means  there  is  a  limit,  for  the  end  is 
always  the  limit),  so,  too,  in  this  art  of  money-making  there  is 
no  limit  of  the  end,  which  is  wealth  of  the  spurious  kind,  and 
the  acquisition  of  money.  But  the  art  of  household  manage- 
ment has  a  limit ;  the  unlimited  acquisition  of  money  is  not  its 
business.  And,  therefore,  in  one  point  of  view,  all  wealth  mus.t 
have  a  limit ;  nevertheless,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  we  find  the  op- 
posite to  be  the  case ;  for  all  money-makers  increase  their  hoard 
of  coin  without  limit.  The  source  of  the  confusion  is  the  near 
connection  between  the  two  kinds  of  money-making ;  in  either, 
the  instrument  [i.e.  wealth]  is  the  same,  although  the  use  is 
different,  and  so  they  pass  into  one  another ;  for  each  is  a  use 
of  the  same  property,  but  with  a  difference:  accumulation  is 
the  end  in  the  one  case,  but  there  is  a  further  end  in  the  other. 
Hence  some  persons  are  led  to  believe  that  making  money  is  the 
object  of  household  management,  and  the  whole  idea  of  their 
lives  is  that  they  ought  either  to  increase  their  money  without 
limit,  or  at  any  rate  not  to  lost  it.  The  origin  of  this  disposition 
in  men  is  that  they  are  intent  upon  living  only,  and  not  upon 
living  well ;  and,  as  their  desires  are  unlimited,  they  also  desire 
that  the  means  of  gratifying  them  should  be  without  limit. 


THE  POLITICS  15 

Even  those  who  aim  at  a  good  life  seek  the  means  of  obtaining 
bodily  pleasures ;  and,  since  the  enjoyment  of  these  appears 
to  depend  on  property,  they  are  absorbed  in  making  money : 
and  so  there  arises  the  second  species  of  money-making.  For, 
as  their  enjoyment  is  in  excess,  they  seek  an  art  which  produces 
the  excess  of  enjoyment;  and,  if  they  are  not  able  to  supply 
their  pleasures  by  the  art  of  money-making,  they  try  other  arts, 
using  in  turn  every  faculty  in  a  manner  contrary  to  nature. 
The  quality  of  courage,  for  example,  is  not  intended  to  make 
money,  but  to  inspire  confidence;  neither  is  this  the  aim  of 
the  general's  or  of  the  physician's  art;  but  the  one  aims  at 
victory  and  the  other  at  health.  Nevertheless,  some  men  turn 
every  quality  or  art  into  a  means  of  making  money ;  this  they 
conceive  to  be  the  end,  and  to  the  promotion  of  the  end  all 
things  must  contribute. 

Thus,  then,  we  have  considered  the  art  of  money-making, 
which  is  unnecessary,  and  why  men  want  it ;  and  also  the  neces- 
sary art  of  money-making,  which  we  have  seen  to  be  different 
from  the  other,  and  to  be  a  natural  part  of  the  art  of  managing 
a  household,  concerned  with  the  provision  of  food,  not,  how- 
ever, like  the  former  kind,  unlimited,  but  having  a  limit. 

And  we  have  found  the  answer  to  our  original  question. 
Whether  the  art  of  money-making  is  the  business  of  the  man- 
ager of  a  household  and  of  the  statesman  or  not  their  business  ? 
— viz.  that  it  is  an  art  which  is  presupposed  by  them.  For  po- 
litical science  does  not  make  men,  but  takes  them  from  nature 
and  uses  them ;  and  nature  provides  them  with  food  from  the 
element  of  earth,  air,  or  sea.  At  this  stage  begins  the  duty  of 
the  manager  of  a  household,  who  has  to  order  the  things  which 
nature  supplies ; — he  may  be  compared  to  the  weaver  who  has 
not  to  make  but  to  use  wool,  and  to  know  what  sort  of  wool  is 
good  and  serviceable  or  bad  and  unserviceable.  Were  this 
otherwise,  it  would  be  difficult  to  see  why  the  art  of  money- 
making  is  a  part  of  the  management  of  a  household  and  the  art 
of  medicine  not ;  for  surely  the  members  of  a  household  must 
have  health  just  as  they  must  have  life  or  any  other  necessary. 
And  as  from  one  point  of  view  the  master  of  the  house  and  the 
ruler  of  the  State  have  to  consider  about  health,  from  another 
point  of  view  not  they  but  the  physician ;  so  in  one  way  the  art 
of  household  management,  in  another  way  the  subordinate  art, 
has  to  consider  about  money.    But,  strictly  speaking,  as  I  have 


i6  ARISTOTLE 

already  said,  the  means  of  life  must  be  provided  beforehand  by 
nature;  for  the  business  of  nature  is  to  furnish  food  to  that 
which  is  born,  and  the  food  of  the  offspring  always  remains  over 
in  the  parent.  Wherefore  the  art  of  making  money  out  of  fruits 
and  animals  is  always  natural. 

Of  the  two  sorts  of  money-making  one,  as  I  have  just  said,  is 
a  part  of  household  management,  the  other  is  retail  trade :  the 
former  necessary  and  honorable,  the  latter  a  kind  of  exchange 
which  is  justly  censured;  for  it  is  unnatural,  and  a  mode  by 
which  men  gain  from  one  another.  The  most  hated  sort,  and 
with  the  greatest  reason,  is  usury,  which  makes  a  gain  out  of 
money  itself,  and  not  from  the  natural  use  of  it.  For  money 
was  intended  to  be  used  in  exchange,  but  not  to  increase  at  in- 
terest. And  this  term  usury  [t6#co9],  which  means  the  birth 
of  money  from  money,  is  applied  to  the  breeding  of  money  be- 
cause the  offspring  resembles  the  parent.  Wherefore  of  all 
modes  of  making  money  this  is  the  most  unnatural. 

Enough  has  been  said  about  the  theory  of  money-making; 
we  will  now  proceed  to  the  practical  part.  -  The  discussion  of 
such  matters  is  not  unworthy  of  philosophy,  but  to  be  engaged 
in  them  practically  is  illiberal  and  irksome.  The  useful  parts  of 
money-making  are,  first,  the  knowledge  of  live-stock — which 
are  most  profitable,  and  where,  and  how — as,  for  example,  what 
sort  of  horses  or  sheep  or  oxen  or  any  other  animals  are  most 
likely  to  give  a  return.  A  man  ought  to  know  which  of  these 
pay  better  than  others,  and  which  pay  best  in  particular  places, 
for  some  do  better  in  one  place  and  some  in  another.  Secondly, 
husbandry,  which  may  be  either  tillage  or  planting,  and  the 
keeping  of  bees  and  of  fish,  or  fowl,  or  of  any  animals  which 
may  be  useful  to  man.  These  are  the  divisions  of  the  true  or 
proper  art  of  money-making  and  come  first.  Of  the  other, 
which  consists  in  exchange,  the  first  and  most  important  divi- 
sion is  commerce  (of  which  there  are  three  kinds — commerce 
by  sea,  commerce  by  land,  selling  in  shops — these  again  differ- 
ing as  they  are  safer  or  more  profitable),  the  second  is  usury, 
the  third,  service  for  hire — of  this,  one  kind  is  employed  in  the 
mechanical  arts,  the  other  in  unskilled  and  bodily  labor.  There 
is  still  a  third  sort  of  money-making  intermediate  between  this 
and  the  first  or  natural  mode  which  is  partly  natural,  but  is  also 
concerned  with  exchange  of  the  fruits  and  other  products  of 
the  earth.    Some  of  these  latter,  although  they  bear  no  fruit,  are 


THE  POLITICS  17 

nevertheless  profitable ;  for  example,  wood  and  minerals.  The 
art  of  mining,  by  which  minerals  are  obtained,  has  many 
branches,  for  there  are  various  kinds  of  things  dug  out  of  the 
earth.  Of  the  several  divisions  of  money-making  I  now  speak 
generally;  a  minute  consideration  of  them  might  be  useful  in 
practice,  but  it  would  be  tiresome  to  dwell  upon  them  at  greater 
length  now. 

Those  occupations  are  most  truly  arts  in  which  there  is  the 
least  element  of  chance ;  they  are  the  meanest  in  which  the  body 
is  most  dete'-iorated,  the  most  servile  in  which  there  is  the  great- 
est use  of  the  body,  and  the  most  illiberal  in  which  there  is  the 
least  need  of  excellence. 

Works  have  been  written  upon  these  subjects  by  various  per- 
sons; for  example,  by  Chares  the  Parian,  and  Apollodorus 
the  Lemnian,  who  have  treated  of  tillage  and  planting,  while 
others  have  treated  of  other  branches ;  anyone  who  cares  for 
such  matters  may  refer  to  their  writings.  It  would  be  well  also 
to  collect  the  scattered  stories  of  the  ways  in  which  individuals 
have  succeeded  in  amassing  a  fortune ;  for  all  this  is  useful  to 
persons  who  value  the  art  of  making  money.  There  is  the  anec- 
dote of  Thales  the  Milesian  and  his  financial  device,  which  in- 
volves a  principle  of  universal  application,  but  is  attributed  to 
him  on  account  of  his  reputation  for  wisdom.  He  was  re- 
proached for  his  poverty,  which  was  supposed  to  show  that 
philosophy  was  of  no  use.  According  to  the  story,  he  knew  by 
his  skill  in  the  stars  while  it  was  yet  winter  that  there  would  be 
a  great  harvest  of  olives  in  the  coming  year ;  so,  having  a  little 
money,  he  gave  deposits  for  the  use  of  all  the  olive-presses  in 
Chios  and  Miletus,  which  he  hired  at  a  low  price  because  no 
one  bid  against  him.  When  the  harvest-time  came,  and  many 
wanted  them  all  at  once  and  of  a  sudden,  he  let  them  out  at  any 
rate  which  he  pleased,  and  made  a  quantity  of  money.  Thus 
he  showed  the  world  that  philosophers  can  easily  be  rich  if  they 
like,  but  that  their  ambition  is  of  another  sort.  He  is  supposed 
to  have  given  a  striking  proof  of  his  wisdom,  but,  as  I  was  say- 
ing, his  device  for  getting  money  is  of  universal  application,  and 
is  nothing  but  the  creation  of  a  monopoly.  It  is  an  art  often 
practised  by  cities  when  they  are  in  want  of  money ;  they  make 
a  monopoly  of  provisions. 

There  was  a  man  of  Sicily,  who,  having  money  deposited  with 
him,  bought  up  all  the  iron  from  the  iron  mines;  afterwards, 
a 


,8  ARISTOTLE 

when  the  merchants  from  their  various  markets  came  to  buy, 
he  was  the  only  seller,  and  without  much  increasing  the  price  he 
gained  200  per  cent.  Which  when  Dionysius  heard,  he  told 
him  that  he  might  take  away  his  money,  but  that  he  must  not 
remain  at  Syracuse,  for  he  thought  that  the  man  had  discovered 
a  way  of  making  money  which  was  injurious  to  his  own  inter- 
ests. He  had  the  same  idea  as  Thales ;  they  both  contrived  to 
create  a  monopoly  for  themselves.  And  statesmen  ought  to 
know  these  things;  for  a  State  is  often  as  much  in  want  of 
money  and  of  such  devices  for  obtaining  it  as  a  household,  or 
even  more  so;  hence  some  public  men  devote  themselves  en- 
tirely to  finance. 

Of  household  management  we  have  seen  that  there  are  three 
parts — one  is  the  rule  of  a  master  over  slaves,  which  has  been 
discussed  already,  another  of  a  father,  and  the  third  of  a  hus- 
band. A  husband  and  father  rules  over  wife  and  children,  both 
free,  but  the  rule  differs,  the  rule  over  his  children  being  a  royal, 
over  his  wife  a  constitutional  rule.  For  although  there  may  be 
exceptions  to  the  order  of  nature,  the  male  is  by  nature  fitter  for 
command  than  the  female,  just  as  the  elder  and  full-grown  is 
superior  to  the  younger  and  more  immature.  But  in  most 
constitutional  States  the  citizens  rule  and  are  ruled  by  turns,  for 
the  idea  of  a  constitutional  State  implies  that  the  natures  of  the 
citizens  are  equal,  and  do  not  differ  at  all.  Nevertheless,  when 
one  rules  and  the  other  is  ruled  we  endeavor  to  create  a  differ- 
ence of  outward  forms  and  names  and  titles  of  respect,  which 
may  be  illustrated  by  the  saying  of  Amasis  about  his  foot-pan.»« 
The  relation  of  the  male  to  the  female  is  of  this  kind,  but  there 
the  inequality  is  permanent.  The  rule  of  a  father  over  his  chil- 
dren is  royal,  for  he  receives  both  love  and  the  respect  due  to 
age,  exercising  a  kind  of  royal  power.  And  therefore  Homer 
has  appropriately  called  Zeus  "  father  of  gods  and  men,"  be- 
cause he  is  the  king  of  them  all.  For  a  king  is  the  natural  su- 
perior of  his  subjects,  but  he  should  be  of  the  same  kin  or  kind 
with  them,  and  such  is  the  relation  of  elder  and  younger,  of 
father  and  son. 

Thus  it  is  clear  that  household  management  attends  more  to 
men  than  to  the  acquisition  of  inanimate  things,  and  to  human 
excellence  more  than  to  the  excellence  of  property  which  we  call 
wealth,  and  to  the  virtue  of  freemen  more  than  to  the  virtue  of 

w  Herod,  ii.  172, 


THE   POLITICS  19 

slaves.  A  question  may  indeed  be  raised,  whether  there  is  any 
excellence  at  all  in  a  slave  beyond  merely  instrumental  and  min- 
isterial qualities — whether  he  can  have  the  virtues  of  temper- 
ance, courage,  justice,  and  the  like;  or  whether  slaves  possess 
only  bodily  and  ministerial  qualities.  And,  whichever  way  we 
answer  the  question,  a  difficulty  arises ;  for,  if  they  have  virtue, 
in  what  will  they  differ  from  freemen?  On  the  other  hand, 
since  they  are  men  and  share  in  reason,  it  seems  absurd  to  say 
that  they  have  no  virtue.  A  similar  question  may  be  raised 
about  women  and  children,  whether  they  too  have  virtues: 
ought  a  woman  to  be  temperate  and  brave  and  just,  and  is  a 
child  to  be  called  temperate,  and  intemperate,  or  not?  So  in 
general  we  may  ask  about  the  natural  ruler,  and  the  natural  sub- 
ject, whether  they  have  the  same  or  different  virtues.  For  a 
noble  nature  is  equally  required  in  both,  but  if  so,  why  should 
one  of  them  always  rule,  and  the  other  always  be  ruled  ?  Nor 
can  we  say  that  this  is  a  question  of  degree,  for  the  difference 
between  ruler  and  subject  is  a  difference  of  kind,  and  therefore 
not  of  degree ;  yet  how  strange  is  the  supposition  that  the  one 
ought,  and  that  the  other  ought  not,  to  have  virtue !  For  if  the 
ruler  is  intemperate  and  unjust,  how  can  he  rule  well?  if  the 
subject,  how  can  he  obey  well?  If  he  be  licentious  and  cow- 
ardly, he  will  certainly  not  do  his  duty.  It  is  evident,  therefore, 
that  both  of  them  must  have  a  share  of  virtue,  but  varying  ac- 
cording to  their  various  natures.  And  this  is  at  once  indicated 
by  the  soul,  in  which  one  part  naturally  rules,  and  the  other  is 
subject,  and  the  virtue  of  the  ruler  we  maintain  to  be  different 
from  that  of  the  subject ; — the  one  being  the  virtue  of  the  ra- 
tional, and  the  other  of  the  irrational  part.  Now,  it  is  obvious 
that  the  same  principle  applies  generally,  and  therefore  almost 
all  things  rule  and  are  ruled  according  to  nature.  But  the  kind 
of  rule  differs ;  — the  freeman  rules  over  the  slave  after  another 
manner  from  that  in  which  the  male  rules  over  the  female,  or  the 
man  over  the  child ;  although  the  parts  of  the  soul  are  present 
in  all  of  them,  they  are  present  in  different  degrees.  For  the 
slave  has  no  deliberative  faculty  at  all ;  the  woman  has,  but  it  is 
without  authority,  and  the  child  has,  but  it  is  immature.  So  it 
must  necessarily  be  with  the  moral  virtues  also ;  all  may  be  sup- 
posed to  partake  of  them,  but  only  in  such  manner  and  degree  as 
is  required  by  each  for  the  fulfilment  of  his  duty.  Hence  the 
ruler  ought  to  have  moral  virtue  in  perfection,  for  his  duty  is 


ao  ARISTOTLE 

entirely  that  of  a  master  artificer,  and  the  master  artificer  is 
reason;  the  subjects,  on  the  other  hand,  require  only  that 
measure  of  virtue  which  is  proper  to  each  of  them.  Clearly, 
then,  moral  virtue  belongs  to  all  of  them ;  but  the  temperance 
of  a  man  and  of  a  woman,  or  the  courage  and  justice  of  a  man 
and  of  a  woman,  are  not,  as  Socrates  maintained,  the  same ;  the 
courage  of  a  man  is  shown  in  commanding,  of  a  woman  in 
obeying.  And  this  holds  of  all  other  virtues,  as  will  be  more 
clearly  seen  if  we  look  at  them  in  detail,  for  those  who  say 
generally  that  virtue  consists  in  a  good  disposition  of  the  soul, 
or  in  doing  rightly,  or  the  like,  only  deceive  themselves.  Far 
better  than  such  definitions  is  their  mode  of  speaking,  who,  like 
Gorgias,«  enumerate  the  virtues.  All  classes  must  be  deemed 
to  have  their  special  attributes;   as  the  poet  says  of  women, 

"  Silence  is  a  woman's  glory,"  o 

but  this  is  not  equally  the  glory  of  man.  The  child  is  imperfect, 
and  therefore  obviously  his  virtue  is  not  relative  to  himself 
alone,  but  to  the  perfect  man  and  to  his  teacher,  and  in  like  man- 
ner the  virtue  of  the  slave  is  relative  to  a  master.  Now  we 
determined  that  a  slave  is  useful  for  the  wants  of  life,  and  there- 
fore he  will  obviously  require  only  so  much  virtue  as  will  pre- 
vent him  from  failing  in  his  duty  through  cowardice  and  intem- 
perance. Some  one  will  ask  whether,  if  what  we  are  saying  is 
true,  virtue  will  not  be  required  also  in  the  artisans,  for  they 
often  fail  in  their  work  through  misconduct  ?  But  is  there  not  a 
great  difference  in  the  two  cases?  For  the  slave  shares  in  his 
master's  life;  the  artisan  is  less  closely  connected  with  him, 
and  only  attains  excellence  in  proportion  as  he  becomes  a  slave, 
\i.e.  is  under  the  direction  of  a  master].  The  meaner  sort  of 
mechanic  has  a  special  and  separate  slavery ;  and  whereas  the 
slave  exists  by  nature,  not  so  the  shoemaker  or  other  artisan. 
It  is  manifest,  then,  that  the  master  ought  to  be  the  source  of 
excellence  in  the  slave ;  but  not  merely  because  he  possesses 
the  art  which  trains  him  in  his  duties.  Wherefore  they  are 
mistaken  who  forbid  us  to  converse  with  slaves  and  say  that  we 
should  employ  command  only,/*  for  slaves  stand  even  more  in 
need  of  admonition  than  children. 

The  relations  of  husband  and  wife,  parent  and  child,  their 
several  virtues,  what  in  their  intercourse  with  one  another  is 

n  Plato,  Meno,  71-73.       o  Soph,  Aj.  293.       p  Plato,  Laws,  vi.  "m. 


THE  POLITICS  SI 

good,  and  what  is  evil,  and  how  we  may  pursue  the  good  and 
escape  the  evil,  will  have  to  be  discussed  when  we  speak  of  the 
different  forms  of  government.  For,  inasmuch  as  every  fam- 
ily is  a  part  of  a  State,  and  these  relationships  are  the  parts  of  a 
family,  the  virtue  of  the  part  must  have  regard  to  the  virtue  of 
the  whole.  And  therefore  women  and  children  must  be  trained 
by  education  with  an  eye  to  the  State,  if  the  virtues  of  either 
of  them  are  supposed  to  make  any  difference  in  the  virtues  of 
the  State.  And  they  must  make  a  difference :  for  the  children 
grow  up  to  be  citizens,  and  half  the  free  persons  in  a  State  are 
women. 

Of  these  matters,  enough  has  been  said;  of  what  remains, 
let  us  speak  at  another  time.  Regarding,  then,  our  present 
inquiry  as  complete,  we  will  make  a  new  beginning.  And, 
first,  let  us  examine  the  various  theories  of  a  perfect  State. 


BOOK  11 

OUR  purpose  is  to  consider  what  form  of  political  com- 
munity is  best  of  all  for  those  who  are  most  able  to 
realize  their  ideal  of  life.  We  must  therefore  examine 
not  only  this  but  other  constitutions,  both  such  as  actually  exist 
in  well-governed  States,  and  any  theoretical  forms  which  are 
held  in  esteem ;  that  what  is  good  and  useful  may  be  brought 
to  light.  And  let  no  one  suppose  that  in  seeking  for  something 
beyond  them  we  at  all  want  to  philosophize  at  the  expense  of 
truth ;  a  we  only  undertake  this  inquiry  because  all  the  constitu- 
tions with  which  we  are  acquainted  are  faulty. 

We  will  begin  with  the  natural  beginning  of  the  subject. 
Three  alternatives  are  conceivable :  The  members  of  a  State 
must  either  have  (i)  all  things  or  (2)  nothing  in  common,  or 
(3)  some  things  in  common  and  some  not.  That  they  should 
have  nothing  in  common  is  clearly  impossible,  for  the  State  is  a 
community,  and  must  at  any  rate  have  a  common  place — one 
city  will  be  in  one  place,  and  the  citizens  are  those  who  share  in 
that  one  city.  But  should  a  well-ordered  State  have  all  things, 
as  far  as  may  be,  in  common,  or  some  only  and  not  others  ?  For 
the  citizens  might  conceivably  have  wives  and  children  and 
property  in  common,  as  Socrates  proposes  in  the  "  Republic  " 
of  Plato.  Which  is  better,  our  present  condition,  or  the  pro- 
posed new  order  of  society  ? 

There  are  many  difficulties  in  the  community  of  women. 
And  the  principle  on  which  Socrates  rests  the  necessity  of  such 
an  institution  does  not  appear  to  be  established  by  his  argu- 
ments. The  end  which  he  ascribes  to  the  State,  taken  literally, 
is  impossible,  and  how  we  are  to  interpret  it  is  nowhere  pre- 
cisely stated.  I  am  speaking  of  the  premise  from  which  the 
argument  of  Socrates  proceeds,  "  that  the  greater  the  unity  of 
the  State  the  better."  Is  it  not  obvious  that  a  State  may  at 
length  attain  such  a  degree  of  unity  as  to  be  no  longer  a  State  ? 
a  Rep.  V.  457  c. 

22 


THE   POLITICS 


23 


— ^since  the  nature  of  a  State  is  to  be  a  plurality,  and  in  tending 
to  greater  unity,  from  being  a  State,  it  becomes  a  family,  and 
from  being  a  family,  an  individual ;  for  the  family  may  be  said 
to  be  more  one  than  the  State,  and  the  individual  than  the  fam- 
ily. So  that  we  ought  not  to  attain  this  greatest  unity  even  if 
we  could,  for  it  would  be  the  destruction  of  the  State.  Again, 
a  State  is  not  made  up  only  of  so  many  men,  but  of  different 
kinds  of  men ;  for  similars  do  not  constitute  a  State.  It  is  not 
like  a  military  alliance,  of  which  the  usefulness  depends  upon 
its  quantity  even  where  there  is  no  difference  in  quality.  For 
in  that  mutual  protection  is  the  end  aimed  at ;  and  the  question 
is  the  same  as  about  the  scales  of  a  balance:  which  is  the 
heavier  ? 

In  like  manner,  a  State  differs  from  a  nation ;  for  in  a  nation 
the  people  are  not  b  distributed  into  villages,  but  live  scattered 
about,  like  the  Arcadians ;  whereas  in  a  State  the  elements  out 
of  which  the  unity  is  to  be  formed  differ  in  kind.  Wherefore 
the  principle  of  compensation,^  as  I  have  already  remarked  in 
the  "  Ethics,"^  is  the  salvation  of  States.  And  among  freemen 
and  equals  this  is  a  principle  which  must  be  maintained,  for 
they  cannot  all  rule  together,  but  must  change  at  the  end  of  a 
year  or  some  other  period  of  time  or  in  some  order  of  succes- 
sion. The  result  is  that  upon  this  plan  they  all  govern ;  [but 
the  manner  of  government  is]  just  as  if  shoemakers  and  car- 
penters were  to  exchange  their  occupations,  and  the  same  per- 
sons did  not  always  continue  shoemakers  and  carpenters.  And 
it  is  clearly  better  that,  as  in  business,  so  also  in  politics  there 
should  be  continuance  of  the  same  persons  where  this  is  pos- 
sible. But  where  this  is  not  possible  by  reason  of  the  natural 
equality  of  the  citizens,  and  it  would  be  unjust  that  anyone 
should  be  excluded  from  the  government  (whether  to  govern 
be  a  good  thing  or  a  bad),^  then  it  is  better,  instead  of  all  hold- 
ing power,  to  adopt  a  principle  of  rotation,  equals  giving  place 
to  equals,  as  the  original  rulers  gave  place  to  them.f  Thus  the 
one  party  rule  and  the  others  are  ruled  in  turn,  as  if  they  were 
no  longer  the  same  persons.  In  like  manner  there  is  a  variety 
in  the  offices  held  by  them.     Hence  it  is  evident  that  a  city  is 

b  Or,  "  dispersed  in  villages,  but  are  in  the  condition  of  the  Arcadians." 
c  Or,  "  reciprocal  proportion." 
d  N.  Eth.,  V.  8,  §  6. 
<rCp.  PI.  Rep.  i.  345-6. 
f  Cp.,  i.  12,  §  2;  iii.  17,  §  4. 


34 


ARISTOTLE 


not  by  nature  one  in  that  sense  which  some  persons  affirm ;  and 
that  what  is  said  to  be  the  greatest  good  of  cities  is  in  reality 
their  destruction;  but  surely  the  good  of  things  must  be  that 
which  preserves  them.g  Again,  in  another  point  of  view,  this 
extreme  unification  of  the  State  is  clearly  not  good ;  for  a  fam- 
ily is  more  self-sufficing  than  an  individual,  and  a  city  than  a 
family,  and  a  city  only  comes  into  being  when  the  community  is 
large  enough  to  be  self-sufficing.  If  then  self-sufficiency  is  to 
be  desired,  the  lesser  degree  of  unity  is  more  desirable  than  the 
greater. 

But,  even  supposing  that  it  were  best  for  the  community  to 
have  the  greatest  degree  of  unity,  this  unity  is  by  no  means 
proved  to  follow  from  the  fact  "  of  all  men  saying  '  mine  '  and 
'  not  mine '  at  the  same  instant  of  time,"  which,  according  to 
Socrates,^  is  the  sign  of  perfect  unity  in  a  State.  For  the 
word  "  all  "  is  ambiguous.  If  the  meaning  be  that  every  indi- 
vidual says  "  mine  "  and  "  not  mine  "  at  the  same  time,  than 
perhaps  the  result  at  which  Socrates  aims  may  be  in  some  de- 
gree accomplished ;  each  man  will  call  the  same  person  his  own 
son  and  his  own  wife,  and  so  of  his  property  and  of  all  that 
belongs  to  him.  This,  however,  is  not  the  way  in  which  people 
would  speak  who  had  their  wives  and  children  in  common; 
they  would  say  "  all  "  but  not  "  each."  In  like  manner  their 
property  would  be  described  as  belonging  to  them,  not  severally 
but  collectively.  There  is  an  obvious  fallacy  in  the  term  "  all  " : 
like  some  other  words,  "  both,"  "  odd,"  "  even,"  it  is  ambigu- 
ous, and  in  argument  becomes  a  source  of  logical  puzzles. 
That  all  persons  call  the  same  thing  mine  in  the  sense  in  which 
each  does  so  may  be  a  fine  thing,  but  it  is  impracticable ;  or  if 
the  words  are  taken  in  the  other  sense  [i.e.  the  sense  which  dis- 
tinguishes "  all  "  from  "  each  "],  such  a  unity  in  no  way  con- 
duces to  harmony.  And  there  is  another  objection  to  the  pro- 
posal. For  that  which  is  common  to  the  greatest  number  has 
the  least  care  bestowed  upon  it.  Everyone  thinks  chiefly  of  his 
own,  hardly  at  all  of  the  common  interest ;  and  only  when  he  is 
himself  concerned  as  an  individual.  For  besides  other  consid- 
erations, everybody  is  more  inclined  to  neglect  the  duty  which 
he  expects  another  to  fulfil ;  as  in  families  many  attendants  are 
often  less  useful  than  a  few.  Each  citizen  will  have  a  thousand 
sons  who  will  not  be  his  sons  individually,  but  anybody  will  be 
g  Cp.  PI.  Rep.  i.  352.  h  PI.  Rep.  v.  462  c. 


THE  POLITICS  as 

equally  the  son  of  anybody,  and  will  therefore  be  neglected  by 
all  alike.  Further,  upon  this  principle,  everyone  will  call  an- 
other "  mine  "  or  "  not  mine  "  according  as  he  is  prosperous  or 
the  reverse ; — however  small  a  fraction  he  may  be  of  the  whole 
number,  he  will  say  of  every  individual  of  the  thousand,  or 
whatever  be  the  number  of  the  city,  "  such  a  one  is  mine," 
"  such  a  one  his  " ;  and  even  about  this  he  will  not  be  positive ; 
for  it  is  impossible  to  know  who  chanced  to  have  a  child,  or 
whether,  if  one  came  into  existence,  it  has  survived.  But 
which  is  better — to  be  able  to  say  "  mine  "  about  every  one  of 
the  two  thousand  or  the  ten  thousand  citizens,  or  to  use  the 
word  "  mine  "  m  the  ordinary  and  more  restricted  sense?  For 
usually  the  same  person  is  called  by  one  man  his  son  whom  an- 
other calls  his  brother  or  cousm  or  kinsman  or  blood-relation 
or  connection  by  marriage  either  of  himself  or  of  some  relation 
of  his,  and  these  relationships  he  distinguishes  from  the  tie 
which  binds  him  to  his  tribe  or  ward ;  and  how  much  better  is 
it  to  be  the  real  cousin  of  somebody  than  to  be  a  son  after 
Plato's  fashion !  Nor  is  there  any  way  of  preventing  brothers 
and  children  and  fathers  and  mothers  from  sometimes  recog- 
nizing one  another;  for  children  are  born  like  their  parents, 
and  they  will  necessarily  be  finding  indications  of  their  rela- 
tionship to  one  another.  Geographers  declare  such  to  be  the 
fact ;  they  say  that  in  Upper  Libya,  where  the  women  are  com- 
mon, nevertheless  the  children  who  are  born  are  assigned  to 
their  respective  fathers  on  the  ground  of  their  likeness.*  And 
some  women,  like  the  females  of  other  animals — for  example, 
mares  and  cows — have  a  strong  tendency  to  produce  offspring 
resembling  their  parents,  as  was  the  case  with  the  Pharsalian 
mare  called  Dicaea  (the  Just)./ 

Other  evils,  against  which  it  is  not  easy  for  the  authors  of 
such  a  community  to  guard,  will  be  assaults  and  homicides, 
voluntary  as  well  as  involuntary,  quarrels  and  slanders,  all 
which  are  most  unholy  acts  when  committed  against  fathers  and 
mothers  and  near  relations,  but  not  equally  unholy  when  there 
IS  no  relationship.  Moreover,  they  are  much  more  likely  to  oc- 
cur if  the  relationship  is  unknown,  and,  when  they  have  oc- 
curred, the  customary  expiations  of  them  cannot  be  made. 
Again,  how  strange  it  is  that  Socrates,  after  having  made  the 
children  common,  should  hinder  lovers  from  carnal  intercourse 

» Cp.  Herod,  iv.  180.  ;'  Cp.  Hist.  Anim.  vii.  6,  p.  586  su  13. 


26  ARISTOTLE 

only,  but  should  permit  familiarities  between  father  and  son  or 
between  brother  and  brother,  than  which  nothing  can  be  more 
unseemly,  since  even  without  them,  love  of  this  sort  is  improper. 
How  strange,  too,  to  forbid  intercourse  for  no  other  reason 
than  the  violence  of  the  pleasure,  as  though  the  relationship  of 
father  and  son  or  of  brothers  with  one  another  made  no  differ 
ence. 

This  community  of  wives  and  children  seems  better  suited  tc 
the  husbandmen  than  to  the  guardians,  for  if  they  have  wivea 
and  children  in  common,  they  will  be  bound  to  one  another  by 
weaker  ties,  as  a  subject  class  should  be,  and  they  will  remain 
obedient  and  not  rebel.  In  a  word,  the  result  of  such  a  law 
would  be  just  the  opposite  of  that  which  good  laws  ought  to 
have,  and  the  intention  of  Socrates  in  making  these  regulations 
about  women  and  children  would  defeat  itself.  For  friendship 
we  believe  to  be  the  greatest  good  of  States  k  and  the  preserva- 
tive of  them  against  revolutions;  neither  is  there  anything 
which  Socrates  so  greatly  lauds  as  the  unity  of  the  State  which 
he  and  all  the  world  declare  to  be  created  by  friendship.  But 
the  unity  which  he  commends  would  be  like  that  of  the  lovers  in 
the  "  Symposium,"/  who,  as  Aristophanes  says,  desire  to  grow 
together  in  the  excess  of  their  affection,  and  from  being  two  to 
become  one,  in  which  case  one  or  both  would  certainly  perish. 
Whereas  [the  very  opposite  will  really  happen]  in  a  State  hav- 
ing women  and  children  common,  love  will  be  watery ;  and  the 
father  will  certainly  not  say  "  my  son,"  or  the  son  "  my  father." 
As  a  little  sweet  wine  mingled  with  a  great  deal  of  water  is  im- 
perceptible in  the  mixture,  so,  in  this  sort  of  community,  the 
idea  of  relationship  which  is  based  upon  these  names  will  be 
lost;  there  is  no  reason  why  the  so-called  father  should  care 
about  the  son,  or  the  son  about  the  father,  or  brothers  about 
one  another.  Of  the  two  qualities  which  chiefly  inspire  regard 
and  affection — that  a  thing  is  your  own  and  that  you  love  it — 
neither  can  exist  in  such  a  state  as  this. 

Again,  the  transfer  of  children  as  soon  as  they  are  born  from 
the  rank  of  husbandmen  or  of  artisans  to  that  of  guardians,  and 
from  the  rank  of  guardians  into  a  lower  rank,*"  will  be  very 
difficult  to  arrange ;  the  givers  or  transferrers  cannot  but  know 
whom  they  are  giving  and  transferring,  and  to  whom.  Ar  ' 
the  previously  mentioned  evils,  such  as  assaults,  unlawful  loves, 

k  Cp.  N.  Eth.,  viii.  i,  §  4.  /  Symp.  189-193.  m  Rep.  iii.  415. 


THE   POLITICS  27 

homicides,  will  happens  more  often  amongst  those  who  are 
transferred  to  the  lower  classes,  or  who  have  a  place  assigned  to 
them  among  the  guardians ;  for  they  will  no  longer  call  the 
members  of  any  other  class  brothers,  and  children,  and  fathers, 
and  mothers,  and  will  not,  therefore,  be  afraid  of  committing 
any  crimes  by  reason  of  consanguinity.  Touching  the  com- 
munity of  wives  and  children,  let  this  be  our  conclusion. 

Next  let  us  consider  what  should  be  our  arrangements  about 
property:  should  the  citizens  of  the  perfect  state  have  their 
possessions  in  common  or  not  ?  This  question  may  be  discussed 
separately  from  the  enactments  about  women  and  children. 
Even  supposing  that  the  women  and  children  belong  to  indi- 
viduals, according  to  the  custom  which  is  at  present  universal, 
may  there  not  be  an  advantage  in  having  and  using  possessions 
in  common?  Three  cases  are  possible:  (i)  the  soil  may  be 
appropriated,  but  the  produce  may  be  thrown  for  consumption 
into  the  common  stock;  and  this  is  the  practice  of  some  na- 
tions. Or  (2),  the  soil  may  be  common,  and  may  be  cultivated 
in  common,  but  the  produce  divided  among  individuals  for  their 
private  use;  this  is  a  form  of  common  property  which  is  said 
to  exist  among  certain  barbarians.  Or  (3),  the  soil  and  the 
produce  may  be  alike  common. 

When  the  husbandmen  are  not  the  owners,  the  case  will  be 
different  and  easier  to  deal  with ;  but  when  they  till  the  ground 
themselves  the  question  of  ownership  will  give  a  world  of 
trouble.  If  they  do  not  share  equallv  in  enjoyments  and  toils, 
those  who  labor  much  and  get  little  will  necessarily  complain  of 
those  who  labor  little  and  receive  or  consume  much.  There  is 
always  a  difficulty  in  men  living  together  and  having  things  in 
common,  but  especially  in  their  having  common  property.  The 
partnerships  of  fellow-travellers  are  an  example  to  the  point; 
for  they  generally  fall  out  by  the  way  and  quarrel  about  any 
trifle  which  turns  up.  So  with  serv-ants :  we  are  most  liable  to 
take  offence  at  those  with  whom  we  most  frequently  come  into 
contact  in  daily  life. 

These  are  only  some  of  the  disadvantages  which  attend  the 
community  of  property ;  the  present  arrangement,  if  improved 
as  it  might  be  by  good  customs  and  laws,  would  be  far  better, 
and  would  have  the  advantages  of  both  systems.  Property 
should  be  in  a  certain  sense  common,  but,  as  a  general  rule, 
private;  for,  when  everyone  has  a  distinct  interest,"  men  will 
nCp.  Rep.  ii.  374. 


28  ARISTOTLE 

not  complain  of  one  another,  and  they  will  make  more  progress, 
because  everyone  will  be  attending  to  his  own  business.  And 
yet  among  the  good,  and  in  respect  of  use,  "  Friends,"  as  the 
proverb  says,  "  will  have  all  things  common." o  Even  now  there 
are  traces  of  such  a  principle,  showing  that  it  is  not  impracti- 
cable, but,  in  well-ordered  States,  exists  already  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent and  may  be  carried  further.  For,  although  every  man  has 
his  own  property,  some  things  he  will  place  at  the  disposal  of  his 
friends,  while  of  others  he  shares  the  use  with  them.  The  Lace- 
daemonians, for  example,  use  one  another's  slaves,  and  horses 
and  dogs,  as  if  they  were  their  own ;  and  when  they  happen  to 
be  in  the  country,  they  appropriate  in  the  fields  whatever  pro- 
visions they  want.  It  is  clearly  better  that  property  should  be 
private,  but  the  use  of  it  common ;  and  the  special  business  of 
the  legislator  is  to  create  in  men  this  benevolent  disposition. 
Again,  how  immeasurably  greater  is  the  pleasure,  when  a  man 
feels  a  thing  to  be  his  own ;  for  the  love  of  self  />  is  a  feeling  im- 
planted by  nature  and  not  given  in  vain,  although  selfishness  is 
rightly  censured;  this,  however,  is  not  the  mere  love  of  self, 
but  the  love  of  self  in  e>:cess,  like  the  miser's  love  of  money; 
for  all,  or  almost  all,  men  love  money,  and  other  such  objects  in 
a  measure.  And  further,  there  is  the  greatest  pleasure  in  doing 
a  kindness  or  service  to  friends  or  guests  or  companions,  which 
can  only  be  rendered  when  a  man  has  private  property.  The 
advantage  is  lost  by  the  excessive  unification  of  the  State.  Two 
virtues  are  annihilated  in  such  a  state :  first,  temperance  towards 
women  (for  it  is  an  honorable  action  to  abstain  from  another's 
wife  for  temperance'  sake)  ;  secondly,  liberality  in  the  matter 
of  property.  No  one,  when  men  have  all  things  in  common,  will 
any  longer  set  an  example  of  liberality  or  do  any  liberal  action ; 
for  liberality  consists  in  the  use  which  is  made  of  property.? 

Such  legislation  may  have  a  specious  appearance  of  benevo- 
lence ;  men  readilv  listen  to  it,  and  are  easily  induced  to  believe 
that  in  some  wonderful  manner  everybody  will  become  every- 
body's friend,  especially  when  some  one  r  Is  heard  denouncing 
the  evils  now  existing  in  States,  suits  about  contracts,  convic- 
tions for  perjury,  flatteries  of  rich  men  and  the  like,  which  are 
said  to  arise  out  of  the  possession  of  private  property.  These 
evils,  however,  are  due  to  a  very  different  cause — the  wicked- 

o  Cp.  Rep.  iv.  424  A.  g  Ibid.  iv.  i,  §  r. 

p  Cp.  N.  Eth.  ix.  8,  §  6.  r  Rep.,  v.  464,  465. 


THE  POLITICS 


39 


ness  of  human  nature.  Indeed,  we  see  that  there  is  much  more 
quarrelHng  among  those  who  have  all  things  in  common,  though 
there  are  not  many  of  them  when  compared  with  the  vast  num- 
bers who  have  private  property. 

Again,  we  ought  to  reckon,  not  only  the  evils  from  which  the 
citizens  will  be  saved,  but  also  the  advantages  which  they  will 
lose.  The  life  which  they  are  to  lead  appears  to  be  quite  im- 
practicable. The  error  of  Socrates  must  be  attributed  to  the 
false  notion  of  unity  from  which  he  starts.  Unity  there  should 
be,  both  of  the  family  and  of  the  State,  but  in  some  respects  only. 
For  there  is  a  point  at  which  a  State  may  attain  such  a  degree  of 
unity  as  to  be  no  longer  a  State,  or  at  which,  without  actually 
ceasing  to  exist,  it  will  become  an  inferior  State,  like  harmony 
passing  into  unison,  or  rhythm  which  has  been  reduced  to  1 
single  foot.  The  State,  as  I  was  saying,  is  a  plurality,  which 
should  be  united  and  made  into  a  community  by  education; 
and  it  is  strange  that  the  author  of  a  system  of  education  which 
he  thinks  will  make  the  State  virtuous,  should  expect  to  improve 
his  citizens  by  regulations  of  this  sort,  and  not  by  philosophy  or 
by  customs  and  laws,  like  those  which  prevail  at  Sparta  and 
Crete  respecting  common  meals,  whereby  the  legislator  has  [to 
a  certain  degree]  made  property  common.  Let  us  remember 
that  we  should  not  disregard  the  experience  of  ages;  in  the 
multitude  of  years  these  things,  if  they  were  good,  would  cer- 
tainly not  have  been  unknown ;  for  almost  everything  has  been 
found  out,  although  sometimes  they  are  not  put  together;  in 
other  cases  men  do  not  use  the  knowledge  which  they  have. 
Great  light  would  be  thrown  on  this  subject  if  we  could  see  such 
a  form  of  government  in  the  actual  process  of  construction ;  for 
the  legislator  could  not  form  a  State  at  all  without  distributing 
and  dividing  the  citizens  into  associations  for  common  meals, 
and  into  phratries  and  tribes.  But  all  this  legislation  ends  only 
in  forbidding  agriculture  to  the  guardians,  a  prohibition  which 
the  Lacedzemonians  try  to  enforce  already. 

Again,  Socrates  has  not  said,  nor  is  it  easy  to  decide,  what  in 
such  a  community  will  be  the  general  form  of  the  State.  The 
citizens  who  are  not  guardians  are  the  majority,  and  about 
them  nothing  has  been  determined :  are  the  husbandmen,  too, 
to  have  their  property  in  common?  Or,  besides  the  common 
land  which  he  tills,  is  each  individual  to  have  his  own  ?  and  are 
their  wives  and  children  to  be  individual  or  common  ?    If,  like 


30 


ARISTOTLE 


the  guardians,  they  are  to  have  all  things  in  common,  in  what 
do  they  differ  from  them,  or  what  will  they  gain  by  submitting 
to  their  government  ?  Or,  upon  what  principle  would  they  sub- 
mit, unless  indeed  the  governing  class  adopt  the  ingenious 
policy  of  the  Cretans,  who  give  their  slaves  the  same  institutions 
as  their  own,  but  forbid  them  gymnastic  exercises  and  the  pos- 
session of  arms  ?  If,  on  the  other  hand,  the  inferior  classes  are 
to  be  like  other  cities  in  respect  of  marriage  and  property,  what 
will  be  the  form  of  the  community?  Must  it  not  contain  two 
States  in  one,-^  each  hostile  to  the  other  ?  One  class  will  consist 
of  the  guardians,  who  are  a  sort  of  watchmen ;  another,  of  the 
husbandmen,  and  there  will  be  the  artisans  and  the  other  citi- 
zens. But  [if  so]  the  suits  and  quarrels,  and  all  the  evils  which 
Socrates  affirms  t  to  exist  in  other  States,  will  exist  equally 
among  them.  He  says  indeed  that,  having  so  good  an  educa- 
tion, the  citizens  will  not  need  many  laws,  for  example  laws 
about  the  city  or  about  the  markets ; «  but  then  he  confines  his 
education  to  the  guardians.  Again,  he  makes  the  husbandmen 
owners  of  the  land  upon  condition  of  their  paying  a  tribute.^ 
But  in  that  case  they  are  likely  to  be  much  more  unmanageable 
and  conceited  than  the  Helots,  or  Penestae,  or  slaves  in  g'en- 
eral.  And  whether  community  of  wives  and  property  be  neces- 
sary for  the  lower  equally  with  the  higher  class  or  not,  and  the 
questions  akin  to  this,  what  will  be  the  education,  form  of 
government,  laws  of  the  lower  class,  Socrates  has  nowhere  de- 
termined: neither  is  it  easy,  though  very  important,  to  dis- 
cover what  should  be  the  character  of  the  inferior  classes,  if  the 
common  life  of  the  guardians  is  to  be  maintained. 

Again,  if  Socrates  makes  the  women  common,  and  retains 
private  property,  the  men  will  see  to  the  fields,  but  who  will  see 
to  the  house?  And  what  will  happen  if  the  agricultural  class 
have  both  their  property  and  their  wives  in  common?  Once 
more ;  it  is  absurd  to  argue,  from  the  analogy  of  the  animals, 
that  men  and  women  should  follow  the  same  pursuits ;  w  for 
animals  have  not  to  manage  a  household.  The  government,  too, 
as  constituted  by  Socrates,  contains  elements  of  danger;  for 
he  makes  the  same  persons  always  rule.  And  if  this  is  often  a 
cause  of  disturbance  among  the  meaner  sort,  how  much  more 
among  high-spirited  warriors?     But  that  the  persons  whom 

s  Cp.  Rep.  iv.  422  E.  /  Rep.  v.  464,  465.  u  Ibid.  iv.  425  d. 

V  Ibid.  V.  464  c  w  Cp.  Rep.  v.  451  d. 


THE  POLITICS  31 

he  makes  rulers  must  be  the  same  is  evident ;  for  the  gold  which 
the  God  mingles  in  the  souls  of  men  is  not  at  one  time  given  to 
one,  at  another  time  to  another,  but  always  to  the  same :  as  he 
says,  "  God  mingles  gold  in  some,  and  silver  in  others,  from 
their  very  birth ;  but  brass  and  iron  in  those  who  are  meant  to 
b€  artisans  and  husbandmen. "■*"  Again,  he  deprives  the  guar- 
dians of  happiness,  and  says  that  the  legislator  ought  to  make 
the  whole  State  happy.y  But  the  whole  cannot  be  happy  unless 
most,  or  all,  or  some  of  its  parts  enjoy  happiness.  In  this  re- 
spect happiness  is  not  like  the  even  principle  in  numbers,  which 
may  exist  only  in  the  whole,  but  in  none  of  the  parts;  not  so 
happiness.  And  if  the  guardians  are  not  happy,  who  are? 
Surely  not  the  artisans,  or  the  common  people.  The  Republic 
of  which  Socrates  discourses  has  all  these  difficulties,  and  others 
quite  as  great. 

The  same,  or  nearly  the  same,  objections  apply  to  Plato's 
later  work,  the  Laws,  and  therefore  we  had  better  examine 
briefly  the  constitution  which  is  therein  described.  In  the  Re- 
public, Socrates  has  definitely  settled  in  all  a  few  questions 
only ;  such  as  the  community  of  women  and  children,  the  com- 
munity of  property,  and  the  constitution  of  the  State.  The 
population  is  divided  into  two  classes — one  of  husbandmen, 
and  the  other  of  warriors ;  from  this  latter  is  taken  a  third  class 
of  counsellors  and  rulers  of  the  State.  But  Socrates  has  not  de- 
termined whether  the  husbandmen  and  artisans  are  to  have  a 
share  in  the  government,  and  whether  they,  too,  are  to  carry 
arms  and  share  in  military  service,  or  not.  He  certainly  thinks 
that  the  women  ought  to  share  in  the  education  of  the  guardians, 
and  to  fight  by  their  side.  The  remainder  of  the  work  is  filled 
up  with  digressions  foreign  to  the  main  subject,  and  with  dis- 
cussions about  the  education  of  the  guardians.  In  the  Laws 
there  is  hardly  anything  but  laws ;  not  much  is  said  about  the 
constitution.  This,  which  he  had  intended  to  make  more  of  the 
ordinary  type,  he  gradually  brings  round  to  the  other  or  ideal 
form.  For  with  the  exception  of  the  community  of  women  and 
property,  he  supposes  everything  to  be  the  same  in  both  States ; 
there  is  to  be  the  same  education ;  the  citizens  of  both  are  to 
live  free  from  servile  occupations,  and  there  are  to  be  common 
meals  in  both.     The  only  diflference  is  that  in  the  Laws,  the 

X  Cp.  Rep.  iii.  415  A.  y  Rep.  iv.  419^  40a 


33 


ARISTOTLE 


common  meals  are  extended  to  women,-?  and  the  warriors  num- 
ber about  5,000,0  but  in  the  RepubHc  only  i,ooo> 

The  discourses  of  Socrates  are  never  commonplace ;  they  al- 
ways exhibit  grace  and  originality  and  thought ;  but  perfection 
in  everything  can  hardly  be  expected.  We  must  not  overlook 
the  fact  that  the  number  of  5,000  citizens,  just  now  mentioned, 
will  require  a  territory  as  large  as  Babylonia,  or  some  other 
huge  country,  if  so  many  persons  are  to  be  supported  in  idle- 
ness, together  with  their  women  and  attendants,  who  will  be  a 
multitude  many  times  as  great.  [In  framing  an  ideal]  we  may 
assume  what  we  wish,  but  should  avoid  impossibilities. 

It  is  said  [in  the  Laws]  that  the  legislator  ought  to  have 
his  eye  directed  to  two  points — the  people  and  the  country .c 
But  neighboring  countries  also  must  not  be  forgotten  by  him, 
if  the  State  for  which  he  legislates  is  to  have  a  true  political  life. 
For  a  State  must  have  such  a  military  force  as  will  be  service- 
able against  her  neighbors,  and  not  merely  useful  at  home. 
Even  if  the  life  of  action  is  not  admitted  to  be  the  best,  either 
for  individuals  or  States,  still  a  city  should  be  formidable  to 
enemies,  whether  invading  or  retreating. 

There  is  another  point :  Should  not  the  amount  of  property 
be  defined  in  some  clearer  way  ?  For  Socrates  says  that  a  man 
should  have  so  much  property  as  will  enable  him  to  live  tem- 
perately ,<*  which  is  only  a  way  of  saying  "  to  live  well  " ;  this 
would  be  the  higher  or  more  general  conception.  But  a  man 
may  live  temperately  and  yet  miserably.  A  better  definition 
woud  be  that  a  man  must  have  so  much  property  as  will  enable 
him  to  live  not  only  temperately  but  liberally;  if  the  two  are 
parted,  liberaHty  will  combine  with  luxury;  toil  will  be  asso- 
ciated with  temperance.  For  liberality  and  temperance  are  the 
only  virtues  which  have  to  do  with  the  use  of  property.  A  man 
cannot  use  property  with  mildness  or  courage,  but  temperately 
and  liberally  he  may ;  and  therefore  the  practice  of  these  virtues 
is  inseparable  from  property.  There  is  an  inconsistency,  too,  in 
equalizing  the  property  and  not  regulating  the  number  of  the 
citizens ;  e  the  population  is  to  remain  unlimited,  and  he  thinks 
that  it  will  be  sufficiently  equalized  by  a  certain  number  of  mar- 
riages being  unfruitful,  however  many  are  born  to  others,  be- 

s  Laws,  vi.  781.  c  Perhaps  Laws,  703-707  and  747  D  (  ?). 

a  Ibid.  V.  ^2,^  E.  d  Laws,  v.  737  d. 

h  Rep.  iv.  423  A.  *  But  see  Laws,  v.  740. 


THE   POLITICS  33 

cause  he  finds  this  to  be  the  case  in  existing  States.  But  [in 
Plato's  imaginary  State]  greater  care  will  be  required  than 
now ;  for  among  ourselves,  whatever  may  be  the  number  of 
citizens,  the  property  is  always  distributed  among  them,  and 
therefore  no  one  is  in  want ;  but,  if  the  property  were  incapable 
of  division  [as  in  the  Laws]  the  supernumeraries,  whether 
few  or  many,  would  get  nothing.  One  would  have  thought 
that  it  was  even  more  necessary  to  limit  population  than  prop- 
erty; and  that  the  limit  should  be  fixed  by  calculating  the 
chances  of  mortality  in  the  children,  and  of  sterility  in  married 
persons.  The  neglect  of  this  subject,  which  in  existing  States 
is  so  common,  is  a  never-failing  cause  of  poverty  among  the 
citizens ;  and  poverty  is  the  parent  of  revolution  and  crime. 
Pheidon  the  Corinthian,  who  was  one  of  the  most  ancient  legis- 
lators, thought  that  the  families  and  the  number  of  citizens 
ought  to  remain  the  same,  although  originally  all  the  lots  may 
have  been  of  different  sizes ;  but  in  the  Laws,  the  opposite 
principle  is  maintained.  What  in  our  opinion  is  the  right  ar- 
rangement will  have  to  be  explained  hereafter. 

There  is  another  omission  in  the  Laws;  Socrates  does 
not  tell  us  how  the  rulers  differ  from  their  subjects;  he  only 
says  that  they  should  be  related  as  the  warp  and  the  woof,  which 
are  made  out  of  different  wools.^  He  allows  that  a  man's  whole 
property  may  be  increased  five-fold,?  but  why  should  not  his 
land  also  increase  to  a  certain  extent?  Again,  will  the  good 
management  of  a  household  be  promoted  by  his  arrangement  of 
homesteads  ?  for  he  assigns  to  each  individual  two  homesteads 
in  separate  places,^  and  it  is  difficult  to  live  in  two  houses. 

The  whole  system  of  government  tends  to  be  neither  democ- 
racy nor  oligarchy,  but  something  in  a  mean  between  them, 
which  is  usually  called  a  polity,  and  is  composed  of  the  heavy 
armed  soldiers.  Now,  if  he  intended  to  frame  a  constitution 
which  would  suit  the  greatest  number  of  States,  he  was  very 
likely  right,  but  not  if  he  meant  to  say  that  this  constitutional 
form  came  nearest  to  his  first  or  ideal  State ;  for  many  would 
prefer  the  Lacedaemonian,  or,  possibly,  some  other  more  aris- 
tocratic government.  Some,  indeed,  say  that  the  best  constitu- 
tion is  a  combination  of  all  existing  forms,  and  they  praise  the 
Lacedaemonian  because  it  is  made  up  of  oligarchy,  monarchy, 

f  Laws,  V.  734  e.  735  a.  g  Ibid.  v.  744  e. 

h  Ibid.  V.  745 ;  but  cp.  infra,  vii.  10,  §  11. 

3 


34  ARISTOTLE 

and  democracy,  the  King-  forming  the  monarchy,  and  the  Coun- 
cil of  Elders  the  oligarchy,  while  the  democratic  element  is 
represented  by  the  Ephors;  for  the  Ephors  are  selected  from 
the  people.  Others,  however,  declare  the  ephoralty  to  be  a 
tyranny,  and  find  the  element  of  democracy  in  the  common 
meals  and  in  the  habits  of  daily  life.  In  the  Laws,  it  is  main- 
tained that  the  best  State  is  made  up  of  democracy  and  tyr- 
anny, which  are  either  not  constitutions  at  all,  or  are  the  worst 
of  all.  But  they  are  nearer  the  truth  who  combine  many  forms ; 
for  the  State  is  better  which  is  made  up  of  more  numerous  ele- 
ments. The  constitution  proposed  in  the  Laws  has  no  ele- 
ment of  monarchy  at  all ;  it  is  nothing  but  oligarchy  and  de- 
mocracy, leaning  rather  to  oHgarchy.  This  is  seen  in  the  mode 
of  appointing  magistrates ; »  for  although  the  appointment  of 
them  by  lot  from  among  those  who  have  been  already  selected 
combines  both  elements,  the  way  in  which  the  rich  are  compelled 
by  law  to  attend  the  Assembly  /  and  vote  for  magistrates  or  dis- 
charge other  political  duties,  while  the  rest  may  do  as  they  like, 
and  the  endeavor  to  have  the  greater  number  of  the  magistrates 
appointed  out  of  the  richest  classes  and  the  highest  officers  se- 
lected from  those  who  have  the  greatest  incomes,  both  these  are 
oligarchical  features.  The  oligarchical  principle  prevails  also 
in  the  choice  of  the  Council ;  ^  for  all  are  compelled  to  choose, 
but  the  compulsion  extends  only  to  the  choice  out  of  the  first 
class,  and  of  an  equal  number  out  of  the  second  class  and  out 
of  the  third  class,  but  not  in  this  latter  case  to  all  the  voters  of  the 
third  and  fourth  class ;  and  the  selection  of  candidates  out  of  the 
fourth  class  is  only  compulsory  on  the  first  and  second.  Then, 
he  says  that  there  ought  to  be  an  equal  number  of  each  class 
selected.  Thus  a  preponderance  will  be  given  to  the  better  sort 
of  people,  who  have  the  larger  incomes,  because  many  of  the 
lower  classes,  not  being  compelled,  will  not  vote.  These  con- 
siderations, and  others  which  will  be  adduced  when  the  time 
comes  for  exarfiining  similar  polities,  tend  to  show  that  States 
like  Plato's  should  not  be  composed  of  democracy  and  mon- 
archy. There  is  also  a  danger  in  electing  the  magistrates  out 
of  a  body  who  are  themselves  elected ;  for,  if  but  a  small  num- 
ber choose  to  combine,  the  elections  will  always  go  as  they  de- 
sire.    Such  is  the  constitution  which  is  described  in  the  Laws. 

»  Laws,  vi.  755,  763  e,  765.  ;  Ibid.  vi.  764  a. 

k  Ibid.  vi.  756  B-E. 


THE  POLITICS  35 

Other  constitutions  have  been  proposed;  some  by  private 
persons,  others  by  philosophers  and  statesmen,  which  all  come 
nearer  to  established  or  existing  ones  than  either  of  Plato's. 
No  one  else  has  introduced  such  novelties  as  the  community  of 
women  and  children,  or  public  tables  for  women:  other  legis- 
lators begin  with  what  is  necessary.  In  the  opinion  of  some, 
the  regulation  of  property  is  the  chief  point  of  all,  that  being 
the  question  upon  which  all  revolutions  turn.  This  danger  was 
recognized  by  Phaleas  of  Chalcedon,  who  was  the  first  to  affirm 
that  the  citizens  of  a  State  ought  to  have  equal  possessions.  He 
thought  that  in  a  new  colony  the  equalization  might  be  accom- 
plished without  difficulty,  not  so  easily  when  a  State  was  already 
established ;  and  that  then  the  shortest  way  of  compassing  the 
desired  end  would  be  for  the  rich  to  give  and  not  to  receive  mar- 
riage portions,  and  for  the  poor  not  to  give  but  to  receive  them. 

Plato  in  the  Laws  was  of  opinion  that,  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent, accumulation  should  be  allowed,  forbidding,  as  I  have  al- 
ready observed,  any  citizen  to  possess  more  than  five  times  the 
minimum  qualification.  But  those  who  make  such  laws  should 
remember  what  they  are  apt  to  forget — that  the  legislator  who 
fixes  the  amount  of  property  should  also  fix  the  number  of  chil- 
dren ;  for,  if  the  children  are  too  many  for  the  property,  the 
law  must  be  broken.  And,  besides  the  violation  of  the  law,  it  is 
a  bad  thing  that  many  from  being  rich  should  become  poor; 
for  men  of  ruined  fortunes  are  sure  to  stir  up  revolutions.  That 
the  equalization  of  property  exercises  an  influence  on  political 
society  was  clearly  understood  even  by  some  of  the  old  legis- 
lators. Laws  were  made  by  Solon  and  others  prohibiting  an 
individual  from  possessing  as  much  land  as  he  pleased ;  and 
there  are  other  laws  in  States  which  forbid  the  sale  of  property : 
among  the  Locrians,  for  example,  there  is  a  law  that  a  man  is 
not  to  sell  his  property  unless  he  can  prove  unmistakably  that 
some  misfortune  has  befalfen  him.  Again,  there  have  been  laws 
which  enjoin  the  preservation  of  the  original  lots.  Such  a  law 
existed  in  the  island  of  Leucas,  and  the  abrogation  of  it  made 
the  constitution  too  democratic,  for  the  rulers  no  longer  had 
the  prescribed  qualification.  Again,  where  there  is  equality  of 
property,  the  amount  may  be  either  too  large  or  too  small,  and 
the  possessor  may  be  living  either  in  luxury  or  penury.  Clearly, 
then,  the  legislator  ought  not  only  to  aim  at  the  equalization  of 
properties,  but  at  moderation  in  their  amount.    And  yet,  if  he 


36  ARISTOTLE 

prescribe  this  moderate  amount  equally  to  all,  he  will  be  no 
nearer  the  mark ;  for  it  is  not  the  possessions  but  the  desires  of 
mankind  which  require  to  be  equalized,  and  this  is  impossible, 
unless  a  sufficient  education  is  provided  by  the  State.  But 
Phaleas  will  probably  reply  that  this  is  precisely  what  he  means ; 
and  that,  in  his  opinion,  there  ought  to  be  in  States,  not  only 
equal  property,  but  equal  education.  Still  he  should  tell  us 
what  will  be  the  character  of  his  education ;  there  is  no  use  in 
having  one  and  the  same  for  all,  if  it  is  of  a  sort  that  predisposes 
men  to  avarice,  or  ambition,  or  both.  Moreover,  civil  troubles 
arise,  not  only  out  of  the  inequality  of  property,  but  out  of  the 
inequality  of  honor,  though  in  opposite  ways.  For  the  com- 
mon people  quarrel  about  the  inequality  of  property,  the  higher 
class  about  the  equality  of  honor ;  as  the  poet  says — 

"  The  bad  and  good  alike  in  honor  share."/ 

There  are  crimes  of  which  the  motive  is  want ;  and  for  these 
Phaleas  expects  to  find  a  cure  in  the  equalization  of  property, 
which  will  take  away  from  a  man  the  temptation  to  be  a  high- 
wayman, because  he  is  hungry  or  cold.  But  want  is  not  the 
sole  incentive  to  crime;  men  desire  to  gratify  some  passion 
which  preys  upon  them,  or  they  are  eager  to  enjoy  the  pleasures 
which  are  unaccompanied  with  pain,  and  therefore  they  commit 
crimes. 

Now  what  is  the  cure  of  these  three  disorders  ?  Of  the  first, 
moderate  possessions  and  occupation ;  of  the  second,  habits  of 
temperance ;  as  to  the  third,  if  any  desire  pleasures  which  de- 
pend on  themselves,  they  will  find  the  satisfaction  of  their  de- 
sires nowhere  but  in  philosophy ;  for  all  other  pleasures  we  are 
dependent  on  others.  The  fact  is  that  the  greatest  crimes  are 
caused  by  excess  and  not  by  necessity.  Men  do  not  become 
tyrants  in  order  that  they  may  not  suffer  cold ;  and  hence  great 
is  the  honor  bestowed,  not  on  him  who  kills  a  thief,  but  on  him 
who  kills  a  tyrant.  Thus  we  see  that  the  institutions  of  Phaleas 
avail  only  against  petty  crimes. 

There  is  another  objection  to  them.  They  are  chiefly  de- 
signed to  promote  the  internal  welfare  of  the  State.  But  the 
legislator  should  consider  also  its  relation  to  neighboring  na- 
,  tions,  and  to  all  who  are  outside  of  it.  The  Government  must 
be  organized  with  a  view  to  military  strength ;  and  of  this  he 

111  ix.  319. 


THE  POLITICS  37 

has  said  not  a  word.  And  so  with  respect  to  property:  there 
should  not  only  be  enough  to  supply  the  internal  wants  of  the 
State,  but  also  to  meet  dangers  coming  from  without.  The 
property  of  the  State  should  not  be  so  large  that  more  powerful 
neighbors  may  be  tempted  by  it,  while  the  owners  are  unable  to 
repel  the  invaders ;  nor  yet  so  small  that  the  State  is  unable  to 
maintain  a  war  even  against  States  of  equal  power,  and  of  the 
same  character.  Phaleas  has  not  laid  down  any  rule ;  and  we 
should  bear  in  mind  that  a  certain  amount  of  wealth  is  an  ad- 
vantage. The  best  limit  will  probably  be,  not  so  much  as  will 
tempt  a  more  powerful  neighbor,  or  make  it  his  interest  to  go 
to  war  with  you.  There  is  a  story  that  Eubulus,  when  Auto- 
phradates  was  going  to  besiege  Atarneus,  told  him  to  consider 
how  long  the  operation  would  take,  and  then  reckon  up  the  cost 
which  would  be  incurred  in  the  time.  "  For,"  said  he,  "  I  am 
willing  for  a  smaller  sum  than  that  to  leave  Atarneus  at  once." 
These  words  of  Eubulus  made  an  impression  on  Autophradates, 
and  he  desisted  from  the  siege. 

One  advantage  gained  by  the  equalization  of  property  is  that 
it  prevents  the  citizens  from  quarrelling.  Not  that  the  gain  in 
this  direction  is  very  great.  For  the  nobles  will  be  dissatisfied 
because  they  do  not  receive  the  honors  which  they  think  their 
due ;  and  this  is  often  found  to  be  a  cause  of  sedition  and  revolu- 
tion. And  the  avarice  of  mankind  is  insatiable;  at  one  time 
two  obols  was  pay  enough  ;  but  now,  when  this  sum  has  become 
customary,  men  always  want  more  and  more  without  end ;  for 
it  is  of  the  nature  of  desire  not  to  be  satisfied,  and  most  men 
live  only  for  the  gratification  of  it.  The  beginning  of  reform 
is  not  so  much  to  equalize  property  as  to  train  the  nobler  sort  of 
natures  not  to  desire  more,  and  to  prevent  the  lower  from  get- 
ting more ;  that  is  to  say,  they  must  be  kept  down,  but  not  ill- 
treated.  Besides,  the  equalization  proposed  by  Phaleas  is  im- 
perfect ;  for  he  only  equalizes  land,  whereas  a  man  may  be  rich 
also  in  slaves,  and  cattle,  and  money,  and  in  the  abundance  of 
what  are  called  his  movables.  Now  either  all  these  things  must 
be  equalized,  or  some  limit  must  be  imposed  on  them,  or  they 
must  all  be  let  alone.  It  would  appear  that  Phaleas  is  legislat- 
ing for  a  small  city  only,  if,  as  he  supposes,  all  the  artisans  are 
to  be  public  slaves  and  not  to  form  a  part  of  the  population  of 
the  city.  But  if  there  is  a  law  that  artisans  are  to  be  public 
slaves,  it  should  only  apply  to  those  engaged  on  public  works,  as 


38  ARISTOTLE 

at  Epidamnus,  or  at  Athens  on  the  plan  which  Diophantus 
once  introduced. 

From  these  observations  anyone  may  judge  how  far  Phaleas 
was  wrong  or  right  in  his  ideas, 

Hippodamus,  the  son  of  Euryphon,  a  native  of  Miletus,  the 
same  who  invented  the  art  of  planning  cities,  and  who  also  laid 
out  the  Piraeus — a  strange  man,  whose  fondness  for  distinction 
led  him  into  a  general  eccentricity  of  life,  which  made  some 
think  him  affected  (for  he  would  wear  flowing  hair  and  ex- 
pensive ornaments ;  and  yet  he  dressed  himself  in  the  same 
cheap  warm  garments  both  in  winter  and  summer)  ;  he,  besides 
aspiring  to  be  an  adept  in  the  knowledge  of  nature,  was  the 
first  person  not  a  statesman  who  made  inquiries  about  the  best 
form  of  government. 

The  city  of  Hippodamus  was  composed  of  10,000  citizens 
divided  into  three  parts — one  of  artisans,  one  of  husbandmen, 
and  a  third  of  armed  defenders  of  the  State.  He  also  divided 
the  land  into  three  parts,  one  sacred,  one  public,  the  third  pri- 
vate : — the  first  was  set  apart  to  maintain  the  customary  worship 
of  the  gods,  the  second  was  to  support  the  warriors,  the  third 
was  the  property  of  the  husbandmen.  He  also  divided  his  laws 
into  three  classes,  and  no  more,  for  he  maintained  that  there 
are  three  subjects  of  lawsuits — insult,  injury,  and  homicide. 
He  likewise  instituted  a  single  final  court  of  appeal,  to  which  all 
causes  seeming  to  have  been  improperly  decided  might  be  re- 
ferred ;  this  court  he  formed  of  elders  chosen  for  the  purpose. 
He  was  further  of  opinion  that  the  decisions  of  the  courts  ought 
not  to  be  given  by  the  use  of  a  voting  pebble,  but  that  every  one 
should  have  a  tablet  on  which  he  might  not  only  write  a  simple 
condemnation,  or  leave  the  tablet  blank  for  a  simple  acquittal; 
but,  if  he  partly  acquitted  and  partly  condemned,  he  was  to  dis- 
tinguish accordingly.  To  the  existing  law  he  objected  that  it 
obliged  the  judges  to  be  guilty  of  perjury,  whichever  way  they 
voted.  He  also  enacted  that  those  who  discovered  anything 
for  the  good  of  the  State  should  be  rewarded ;  and  he  provided 
that  the  children  of  citizens  who  died  in  battle  should  be  main- 
tained at  the  public  expense,  as  if  such  an  enactment  had  never 
been  heard  of  before,  yet  it  actually  exists  at  Athens »»  and  in 
other  places.  As  to  the  magistrates,  he  would  have  them  all 
elected  by  the  people,  that  is.  by  the  three  classes  already  men- 
m  Cp.  Thuc.  ii.  c.  46. 


THE  POLITICS  39 

tioned,  and  those  who  were  elected  were  to  watch  over  the  in- 
terests of  the  public,  of  strangers,  and  of  orphans.  These  are 
the  most  striking  points  in  the  constitution  of  Hippodamus. 
There  is  not  much  else. 

The  first  of  these  proposals  to  which  objection  may  be  taken, 
is  the  threefold  division  of  the  citizens.  The  artisans,  and  the 
husbandmen,  and  the  warriors,  all  have  a  share  in  the  govern- 
ment. But  the  husbandmen  have  no  arms,  and  the  artisans 
neither  arms  nor  land,  and  therefore  they  become  all  but  slaves 
of  the  warrior  class.  That  they  should  share  in  all  the  offices  is 
an  impossibility;  for  generals  and  guardians  of  the  citizens, 
and  nearly  all  the  principal  magistrates,  must  be  taken  from  the 
class  of  those  who  carry  arms.  Yet,  if  the  two  other  classes 
have  no  share  in  the  government,  how  can  they  be  loyal  citi- 
zens? It  may  be  said  that  those  who  have  arms  must  neces- 
sarily be  masters  of  both  the  other  classes,  but  this  is  not  so 
easily  accomplished  unless  they  are  numerous ;  and  if  they  are, 
why  should  the  other  classes  share  in  the  government  at  all,  or 
have  power  to  appoint  magistrates?  Artisans  there  must  be, 
for  these  are  wanted  in  every  city,  and  they  can  live  by  their 
craft,  as  elsewhere ;  and  the  husbandmen,  too,  if  they  really 
provided  the  warriors  with  food,  might  fairly  have  a  share  in 
the  government.  But  in  the  republic  of  Hippodamus  they  are 
supposed  to  have  land  of  their  own,  which  they  cultivate  for 
their  private  benefit.  Again,  as  to  this  common  land  out  of 
which  the  soldiers  are  maintained,  if  they  are  themselves  to 
be  the  cultivators  of  it,  the  warrior  class  will  be  identical  with 
the  husbandmen,  although  the  legislator  intended  to  make  a  dis- 
tinction between  them.  If,  again,  there  are  to  be  other  culti- 
vators distinct  both  from  the  husbandmen,  who  have  land  of 
their  own,  and  from  the  warriors,  they  will  make  a  fourth  class, 
which  has  no  place  in  the  State  and  no  share  in  anything.  Or, 
if  the  same  persons  are  to  cultivate  their  own  lands  and  those 
of  the  public  as  well,  they  will  have  a  difficulty  in  supplying 
the  quantity  of  produce  which  will  maintain  two  households: 
and  why,  in  this  case,  should  there  be  any  division,  for  they 
might  find  food  themselves  and  give  to  the  warriors  from  the 
same  lots?    There  is  surely  a  great  confusion  in  all  this. 

Neither  is  the  law  to  be  commended  which  says  that  the 
judges,  when  a  simple  issue  is  laid  before  them,  should  dis- 
tinguish in  their  judgment ;  for  the  judge  is  thus  converted  into 


40  ARISTOTLE 

an  arbitrator.  Now,  in  an  arbitration,  although  the  arbitra- 
tors are  many,  they  confer  with  one  another  about  the  decision, 
and  therefore  they  can  distinguish ;  but  in  courts  of  law  this  is 
impossible,  and,  indeed,  most  legislators  take  pains  to  prevent 
the  judges  from  holding  any  communication  with  one  another. 
Again,  will  there  not  be  confusion  if  the  judge  thinks  that  dam- 
ages should  be  given,  but  not  so  much  as  the  suitor  demands  ? 
He  asks,  say,  for  twenty  minse,  and  the  judge  allows  him  ten 
minae,  or  one  judge  more  and  another  less ;  one  five,  another 
four  minae.  In  this  way  they  will  go  on  apportioning  the  dam- 
ages, and  some  will  grant  the  whole  and  others  nothing :  how  is 
the  final  reckoning  to  be  taken  ?  Again,  no  one  who  votes  for  a 
simple  acquittal  or  condemnation  is  compelled  to  perjure  him- 
self, if  the  indictment  is  quite  simple  and  in  right  form;  for 
the  judge  who  acquits  does  not  decide  that  the  defendant  owes 
nothing,  but  that  he  does  not  owe  the  twenty  minae.  He  only 
is  guilty  of  perjury  who  thinks  that  the  defendant  ought  not  to 
pay  twenty  minae,  and  yet  condemns  him. 

To  reward  those  who  discover  anything  which  is  useful  to 
the  State  is  a  proposal  which  has  a  specious  sound,  but  cannot 
safely  be  enacted  by  law,  for  it  may  encourage  informers,  and 
perhaps  even  lead  to  political  commotions.  This  question  in- 
volves another.  It  has  been  doubted  whether  it  is  or  is  not  ex- 
pedient to  make  any  changes  in  the  laws  of  a  country,  even  if 
another  law  be  better.  Now,  if  all  changes  are  inexpedient,  we 
can  hardly  assent  to  the  proposal  of  Hippodamus ;  for,  under 
pretence  of  doing  a  public  service,  a  man  may  introduce  meas- 
ures which  are  really  destructive  to  the  laws  or  to  the  constitu- 
tion. But,  since  we  have  touched  upon  this  subject,  perhaps  we 
had  better  go  a  little  into  detail,  for,  as  I  was  saying,  there  is  a 
diflFerence  of  opinion,  and  it  may  sometimes  seem  desirable  to 
make  changes.  Such  changes  in  the  other  arts  and  sciences 
have  certainly  been  beneficial ;  medicine,  for  example,  and  gym- 
nastic,  and  every  other  art  and  science  have  departed  from  tra- 
ditional usage.  And,  if  politics  be  an  art,  change  must  be  neces- 
sary in  this  as  in  any  other  art.  The  need  of  improvement  is 
shown  by  the  fact  that  old  customs  are  exceedingly  simple  and 
barbarous.  For  the  ancient  Hellenes  went  about  armed  «  and 
bought  their  wives  of  each  other.  The  remains  of  ancient  laws 
which  have  come  down  to  us  are  quite  absurd ;  for  example,  at 
n  Cp.  Thucyd.  i.  c.  5  and  6. 


THE  POLITICS  41 

Cumae  there  is  a  law  about  murder,  to  the  effect  that  if  the  ac- 
cuser produce  a  certain  number  of  witnesses  from  among  his 
own  kinsmen,  the  accused  shall  be  held  guilty.  Again,  men  in 
general  desire  the  good,  and  not  merely  what  their  fathers  had. 
But  the  primeval  inhabitants,  whether  they  were  born  of  the 
earth  or  were  the  survivors  of  some  destruction,  may  be  sup- 
posed to  have  been  no  better  than  ordinary  foolish  people  among 
ourselves  (such  is  certainly  the  tradition  0  concerning  the  earth- 
bom  men)  ;  and  it  would  be  ridiculous  to  rest  contented  with 
their  notions.  Even  when  laws  have  been  written  down,  they 
ought  not  always  to  rem.ain  unaltered.  As  in  other  sciences, 
so  in  politics,  it  is  impossible  that  all  things  should  be  precisely 
set  down  in  writing ;  for  enactments  must  be  universal,  but  ac- 
tions are  concerned  with  particulars./*  Hence  we  infer  that 
sometimes  and  in  certain  cases  laws  may  be  changed ;  but  when 
we  look  at  the  matter  from  another  point  of  view,  great  caution 
would  seem  to  be  required.  For  the  habit  of  lightly  changing 
the  laws  is  an  evil,  and,  when  the  advantage  is  small,  some 
errors  both  of  law-givers  and  rulers  had  better  be  left ;  the  citi- 
zen will  not  gain  so  much  by  the  change  as  he  will  lose  by  the 
habit  of  disobedience.  The  analogy  of  the  arts  is  false;  a 
change  in  a  law  is  a  very  different  thing  from  a  change  in  an 
art.  For  the  law  has  no  power  to  command  obedience  except 
that  of  habit,  which  can  only  be  given  by  time,  so  that  a  readi- 
ness to  change  from  old  to  new  laws  enfeebles  the  power  of  the 
law.  Even  if  we  admit  that  the  laws  are  to  be  changed,  are 
they  all  to  be  changed,  and  in  every  State  ?  And  are  they  to  be 
changed  by  anybody  who  likes,  or  only  by  certain  persons? 
These  are  very  important  questions ;  and  therefore  we  had  bet- 
ter reserve  the  discussion  of  them  to  a  more  suitable  occasion. 

In  the  governments  of  Lacedaemon  and  Crete,  and  indeed 
in  all  governments,  two  points  have  to  be  considered;  first, 
whether  any  particular  law  is  good  or  bad,  when  compared  with 
the  perfect  state  ;  secondly,  whether  it  is  or  is  not  consistent  with 
the  idea  and  character  which  the  law-giver  has  set  before  his 
citizens.  That  in  a  well-ordered  State  the  citizens  should  have 
leisure  and  not  have  to  provide  for  their  daily  wants  is  generally 
acknowledged,  but  there  is  a  difficulty  in  seeing  how  this  leisure 
is  to  be  attained.     [For,  if  you  employ  slaves,  they  are  liable  to 

0  Cp.  Plato,  Laws,  iii.  677  a;  Polit  271  a;  Tim.  22  c 
p  Cp.  Plato,  Polit.  295  A. 


42  ARISTOTLE 

rebel.]  The  Thessalian  Penestae  have  often  risen  against  their 
masters,  and  the  Helots  in  Uke  manner  against  the  Lacedaemo- 
nians, for  whose  misfortunes  they  are  always  lying  in  wait. 
Nothing,  however,  of  this  kind  has  as  yet  happened  to  the 
Cretans ;  the  reason  probably  is  that  the  neighboring  cities,  even 
when  at  war  with  one  another,  never  form  an  alliance  with  re- 
bellious serfs,  rebellions  not  being  for  their  mterest,  since  they 
themselves  have  a  dependent  population.  Whereas  all  the 
neighbors  of  the  Lacedaemonians,  whether  Argives,  Messe- 
nians,  or  Arcadians,  are  their  enemies  [and  the  Helots  are  al- 
ways revolting  to  them].  In  Thessaly,  again,  the  original  re- 
volt of  the  slaves  occurred  at  a  time  when  the  Thessalians  were 
still  at  war  with  the  neighboring  Achaeans,  Perrhaebians,  and 
Magnesians.  Besides,  if  there  were  no  other  difficulty,  the 
treatment  or  management  of  slaves  is  a  troublesome  affair;  for, 
if  not  kept  in  hand,  they  are  insolent,  and  think  that  they  are 
as  good  as  their  masters,  and,  if  harshly  treated,  they  hate  and 
conspire  against  them.  Now  it  is  clear  that  when  these  are  the 
results  the  citizens  of  a  State  have  not  found  out  the  secret  of 
managing  their  subject  population. 

Again,  the  license  of  the  Lacedaemonian  women  defeats  the 
intention  of  the  Spartan  constitution,  and  is  adverse  to  the  good 
order  of  the  State.  For  a  husband  and  a  wife,  being  each  a 
part  of  every  family,  the  State  may  be  considered  as  about 
equally  divided  into  men  and  women ;  and,  therefore,  in  those 
States  in  which  the  condition  of  the  women  is  bad,  half  the  city 
may  be  regarded  as  having  no  laws.  And  this  is  what  has  actu- 
ally happened  at  Sparta;  the  legislator  wanted  to  make  the 
whole  State  hardy  and  temperate,  and  he  has  carried  out  his  in- 
tention in  the  case  of  the  men,  but  he  has  neglected  the  women, 
who  live  in  every  sort  of  intemperance  and  luxury.  The  con- 
sequence is  that  in  such  a  State  wealth  is  too  highly  valued, 
especially  if  the  citizens  fall  under  the  dominion  of  their  wives, 
after  the  manner  of  all  warlike  races,  except  the  Celts  and  a  few 
others  who  openly  approve  of  male  loves.  The  old  mythologer 
would  seem  to  have  been  right  in  uniting  Ares  and  Aphrodite, 
for  all  warlike  races  are  prone  to  the  love  either  of  men  or  of 
women.  This  was  exemplified  among  the  Spartans  in  the  days 
of  their  greatness ;  many  things  were  managed  by  their  women. 
But  what  difference  does  it  make  whether  women  rule,  or  the 
rulers  are  ruled  by  women  ?    The  result  is  the  same.     Even  in 


THE  POLITICS  43 

regard  to  courage,  which  is  of  no  use  in  daily  life,  and  is  needed 
only  in  war,  the  influence  of  the  Lacedsemonian  women  has 
been  most  mischievous.  The  evil  showed  itself  in  the  Theban 
invasion,  when,  unlike  the  women  in  other  cities,  they  were 
utterly  useless  and  caused  more  confusion  than  the  enemy.  This 
license  of  the  Lacedaemonian  women  existed  from  the  earliest 
times,  and  was  only  what  might  be  expected.  For,  during  the 
wars  of  the  Lacedaemonians,  first  against  the  Argives,  and  af- 
terwards against  the  Arcadians  and  Messenians,  the  men  were 
long  away  from  home,  and,  on  the  return  of  peace,  they  gave 
themselves  into  the  legislator's  hand,  already  prepared  by  the 
discipline  of  a  soldier's  life  (in  which  there  are  many  elements 
of  virtue),  to  receive  his  enactments.  But,  when  Lycurgus,  as 
tradition  says,  wanted  to  bring  the  women  under  his  laws,  they 
resisted,  and  he  gave  up  the  attempt.  They,  and  not  he,  are  to 
blame  for  what  then  happened,  and  this  defect  in  the  constitu- 
tion is  clearly  to  be  attributed  to  them.  We  are  not,  however, 
considering  what  is  or  is  not  to  be  excused,  but  what  is  right  or 
wrong,  and  the  disorder  of  the  women,  as  I  have  already  said, 
not  only  of  itself  gives  an  air  of  indecorum  to  the  State,  but 
tends  in  a  measure  to  foster  avarice. 

The  mention  of  avarice  naturally  suggests  a  criticism  on  the 
inequality  of  property.  While  some  of  the  Spartan  citizens 
have  quite  small  properties,  others  have  very  large  ones ;  hence 
the  land  has  passed  into  the  hands  of  a  few.  And  here  is  an- 
other fault  in  their  laws ;  for,  although  the  legislator  rightly 
holds  up  to  shame  the  sale  or  purchase  of  an  inheritance,  he 
allows  anybody  who  likes  to  give  and  bequeath  it.  Yet  both 
practices  lead  to  the  same  result.  And  nearly  two-fifths  of  the 
whole  country  is  held  by  women ;  this  is  owing  to  the  number 
of  heiresses  and  to  the  large  dowries  which  are  customary.  It 
would  surely  have  been  better  to  have  given  no  dowries  at  all, 
or,  if  any,  but  small  or  moderate  ones.  As  the  law  now  stands, 
a  man  may  bestow  his  heiress  on  anyone  whom  he  pleases,  and, 
if  he  die  intestate,  the  privilege  of  giving  her  away  descends 
to  his  heir.  Hence,  although  the  country  is  able  to  maintain 
1,500  cavalry  and  30,000  hoplites,  the  whole  number  of  Spartan 
citizens  [at  the  time  of  the  Theban  invasion]  fell  below  1,000. 
The  result  proves  the  faulty  nature  of  their  laws  respecting 
property ;  for  the  city  sank  under  a  single  defeat ;  the  want  of 
men  was  their  ruin.     There    is  a  tradition  that,  in  the  days  of 


44 


ARISTOTLE 


their  ancient  kings,  they  were  in  the  habit  of  giving  the  rights 
of  citizenship  to  strangers,  and  therefore,  in  spite  of  their  long 
wars,  no  lack  of  population  was  experienced  by  them ;  indeed, 
at  one  time  Sparta  is  said  to  have  numbered  not  less  than  10,000 
citizens.  Whether  this  statement  is  true  or  not,  it  would  cer- 
tainly have  been  better  to  have  maintained  their  numbers  by  the 
equalization  of  property.  Again,  the  law  which  relates  to  the 
procreation  of  children  is  adverse  to  the  correction  of  this  in- 
equality. For  the  legislator,  wanting  to  have  as  many  Spartans 
as  he  could,  encouraged  the  citizens  to  have  large  families ;  and 
there  is  a  law  at  Sparta  that  the  father  of  three  sons  shall  be 
exempt  from  military  service,  and  he  who  has  four  from  all 
the  burdens  of  the  State.  Yet  it  is  obvious  that,  if  there  were 
many  children,  the  land  being  distributed  as  it  is,  many  of  them 
must  necessarily  fall  into  poverty. 

The  Lacedaemonian  constitution  is  defective  in  another 
point;  I  mean  the  ephoralty.  This  magistracy  has  authority 
in  the  highest  matters,  but  the  Ephors  are  all  chosen  from  the 
people,  and  so  the  office  is  apt  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  very  poor 
men,  who,  being  badly  off,  are  open  to  bribes.  There  have  been 
many  examples  at  Sparta  of  this  evil  in  former  times;  and 
quite  recently,  in  the  matter  of  the  Andrians,  certain  of  the 
Ephors  who  were  bribed  did  their  best  to  ruin  the  State,  And 
so  great  and  tyrannical  is  their  power,  that  even  the  kings  have 
been  compelled  to  court  them ;  through  their  influence  the  con- 
stitution has  deteriorated,  and  from  being  an  aristocracy  has 
turned  into  a  democracy.  The  ephoralty  certainly  does  keep 
the  State  together;  for  the  people  are  contented  when  they 
have  a  share  in  the  highest  office,  and  the  result,  whether  due 
to  the  legislator  or  to  chance,  has  been  advantageous.  For  if  a 
constitution  is  to  be  permanent,  all  the  parts  of  the  State  must 
wish  that  it  should  exist  and  be  maintained.  This  is  the  case  at 
Sparta,  where  the  kings  desire  permanence  because  they  have 
due  honor  in  their  own  persons ;  the  nobles  are  represented  in 
the  Council  of  Elders  ( for  the  office  of  Elder  is  a  reward  of  vir- 
tue) ;  and  the  people  in  the  ephoralty,  for  all  are  eligible  to  it. 
The  election  of  Ephors  out  of  the  whole  people  is  perfectly 
right,  but  ought  not  to  be  carried  on  in  the  present  fashion, 
which  is  too  childish.  Again,  they  have  the  decision  of  great 
causes,  although  they  are  quite  ordinary  men,  and  therefore 
they  should  not  determine  them  merely  on  their  own  judgment. 


THE  POLITICS  45 

but  according  to  written  rules,  and  to  the  laws.  Their  way  of 
life,  too,  is  not  in  accordance  with  the  spirit  of  the  constitution 
— they  have  a  deal  too  much  license;  whereas,  in  the  case  of 
the  other  citizens,  the  excess  of  strictness  is  so  intolerable  that 
they  run  away  from  the  law  into  the  secret  indulgence  of  sen- 
sual pleasures. 

Again,  the  Council  of  Elders  is  not  free  from  defects.  It  may 
be  said  that  the  Elders  are  good  men  and  well  trained  in  manly 
virtue;  and  that,  therefore,  there  is  an  advantage  to  the  State 
in  having  them.  But  that  judges  of  important  causes  should 
hold  office  for  life  is  not  a  good  thing,  for  the  mind  grows  old 
as  well  as  the  body.  And  when  men  have  been  educated  in  such 
a  manner  that  even  the  legislator  himself  cannot  trust  them, 
there  is  real  danger.  Many  of  the  Elders  are  well  known  to 
have  taken  bribes  and  to  have  been  guilty  of  partiality  in  pub- 
lic affairs.  And  therefore  they  ought  not  to  be  irresponsible; 
yet  at  Sparta  they  are  so.  But  (it  may  be  replied),  "  All  mag- 
istracies are  accountable  to  the  Ephors."  Yes,  but  this  pre- 
rogative is  too  great  for  them,  and  we  maintain  that  the  control 
should  be  exercised  in  some  other  manner.  Further,  the  mode 
in  which  the  Spartans  elect  their  Elders  is  childish;  and  it  is 
improper  that  the  person  to  be  elected  should  canvass  for  the 
office ;  the  worthiest  should  be  appointed,  whether  he  chooses 
or  not.  And  here  the  legislator  clearly  indicates  the  same  in- 
tention which  appears  in  other  parts  of  his  constitution ;  he 
would  have  his  citizens  ambitious,  and  he  has  reckoned  upon 
this  quality  in  the  election  of  the  Elders ;  for  no  one  would  ask 
to  be  elected  if  he  were  not.  Yet  ambition  and  avarice,  almost 
more  than  any  other  passions,  are  the  motives  of  crime. 

Whether  kings  are  or  are  not  an  advantage  to  States,  I  will 
consider  at  another  time ;  they  should  at  any  rate  be  chosen, 
not  as  they  are  now,  but  with  regard  to  their  personal  life  and 
conduct.  The  legislator  himself  obviously  did  not  suppose  that 
he  could  make  them  really  good  men ;  at  least  he  shows  a  great 
distrust  of  their  virtue.  For  this  reason  the  Spartans  used  to 
join  enemies  in  the  same  embassy,  and  the  quarrels  between  the 
kings  were  held  to  be  conservative  of  the  State. 

Neither  did  the  first  introducer  of  the  common  meals,  called 
"  phiditia,"  regulate  them  well.  The  entertainment  ought  to 
have  been  provided  at  the  public  cost,  as  in  Crete ;  but  among 
the  Lacedaemonians  everyone  is  expected  to  contribute,  and 


46  ARISTOTLE 

some  of  them  are  too  poor  to  afford  the  expense ;  thus  the  in- 
tention of  the  legislator  is  frustrated.  The  common  meals  were 
meant  to  be  a  popular  institution,  but  the  existing  manner  of 
regulating  them  is  the  reverse  of  popular.  For  the  very  poor 
can  scarcely  take  part  in  them ;  and,  according  to  ancient  cus- 
tom, those  who  cannot  contribute  are  not  allowed  to  retain  their 
rights  of  citizenship. 

The  law  about  the  Spartan  admirals  has  often  been  censured, 
and  with  justice ;  it  is  a  source  of  dissension,  for  the  kings  are 
perpetual  generals,  and  this  office  of  admiral  is  but  the  setting 
up  of  another  king. 

The  charge  which  Plato  brings,  in  the  Laws,9  against  the 
intention  of  the  legislator,  is  likewise  justified ;  the  whole  con- 
stitution has  regard  to  one  part  of  virtue  only — the  virtue  of  the 
soldier,  which  gives  victory  in  war.  And  so  long  as  they  were 
at  war,  their  power  was  preserved,  but  when  they  had  attained 
empire  they  fell,  for  of  the  arts  of  peace  they  knew  nothing,  and 
had  never  engaged  in  any  employment  higher  than  war.  There 
is  another  error,  equally  great,  into  which  they  have  fallen. 
Although  they  truly  think  that  the  goods  for  which  they  con- 
tend are  to  be  acquired  by  virtue  rather  than  by  vice,  they  err 
in  supposing  that  these  goods  are  to  be  preferred  to  the  virtue 
which  gains  them. 

Once  more :  the  revenues  of  the  State  are  ill-managed ;  there 
is  no  money  in  the  treasury,  although  they  are  obliged  to  carry 
on  great  wars,  and  they  are  unwilling  to  pay  taxes.  The  greater 
part  of  the  land  being  in  the  hands  of  the  Spartans,  they  do 
not  look  closely  into  one  another's  contributions.  The  result 
which  the  legislator  has  produced  is  the  reverse  of  beneficial; 
for  he  has  made  his  city  poor,  and  his  citizens  greedy. 

Enough  respecting  the  Spartan  constitution,  of  which  these 
are  the  principal  defects. 

The  Cretan  constitution  nearly  resembles  the  Spartan,  and 
in  some  few  points  is  quite  as  good ;  but  for  the  most  part  less 
perfect  in  form.  The  older  constitutions  are  generally  less 
elaborate  than  the  later,  and  the  Lacedaemonian  is  said  to  be, 
and  probably  is,  in  a  very  great  measure,  a  copy  of  the  Cretan. 
According  to  tradition,  Lycurgus,  when  he  ceased  to  be  the 
guardian  of  King  Charilaus,  went  abroad  and  spent  a  long 
time  in  Crete.  For  the  two  countries  are  nearly  connected; 
^Laws,  .  630. 


THE  POLITICS 


47 


the  Lyctians  are  a  colony  of  the  Lacedaemonians,  and  the  colon- 
ists, when  they  came  to  Crete,  adopted  the  constitution  which 
they  found  existing  among  the  inhabitants.  Even  to  this  day 
the  Perioeci,  or  subject  population  of  Crete,  are  governed  by 
the  original  laws  which  Minos  enacted.  The  island  seems  to 
be  intended  by  nature  for  dominion  in  Hellas,  and  to  be  well 
situated ;  it  extends  right  across  the  sea,  around  which  nearly 
all  the  Hellenes  are  settled ;  and  while  one  end  is  not  far  from 
the  Peloponnese,  the  other  almost  reaches  to  the  region  of  Asia 
about  Triopium  and  Rhodes.  Hence  Minos  acquired  the  em- 
pire of  the  sea,  subduing  some  of  the  islands  and  colonizing 
others ;  at  last  he  invaded  Sicily,  where  he  died  near  Camicus. , 

The  Cretan  institutions  resemble  the  Lacedaemonian.  The 
Helots  are  the  husbandmen  of  the  one,  the  Perioeci  of  the  other, 
and  both  Cretans  and  Lacedaemonians  have  common  meals, 
which  were  anciently  called  by  the  Lacedaemonians  not 
"  phiditia  "  but  "  andria  " ;  and  the  Cretans  have  the  same 
word,  the  use  of  which  proves  that  the  common  meals  [or 
syssitid\  originally  came  from  Crete.  Further,  the  two  consti- 
tutions are  similar  [in  many  particulars]  ;  for  the  office  of  the 
Ephors  is  the  same  as  that  of  the  Cretan  Cosmi,  the  only  diflFer- 
ence  being  that  whereas  the  Ephors  are  five,  the  Cosmi  are  ten 
in  number.  The  Elders,  too,  answer  to  the  Elders  in  Crete,  who 
are  termed  by  the  Cretans  the  Council,  And  the  kingly  office 
once  existed  in  Crete,  but  was  abolished,  and  the  Cosmi  have 
now  the  duty  of  leading  them  in  war.  All  classes  share  in  the 
Ecclesia,  but  it  can  only  ratify  the  decrees  of  the  Elders  and  the 
Cosmi. 

The  common  meals  of  Crete  are  certainly  better  managed 
than  the  Lacedaemonian ;  for  in  Lacedaemon  everyone  pays 
so  much  per  head,  or,  if  he  fails,  the  law,  as  I  have  already  ex- 
Iplained,  forbids  him  to  exercise  the  rights  of  citizenship.  But 
in  Crete  they  are  of  a  more  popular  character.  There,  of  all 
the  fruits  of  the  earth,  of  cattle,  of  the  public  revenues,  and  of 
the  tribute  which  is  paid  by  the  Perioeci,  one  portion  is  as- 
signed to  the  gods  and  to  the  service  of  the  State,  and  another 
to  the  common  meals,  so  that  men,  women,  and  children  are  all 
supported  out  of  a  common  stock.  The  legislator  has  many 
ingenious  ways  of  securing  moderation  in  eating  which  he  con- 
ceives to  be  a  gain ;  he  likewise  encourages  the  separation  of 
men  from  women,  lest  they  should  have  too  many  children,  and 


48  ARISTOTLE 

the  companionship  of  men  with  one  another — whether  this  is  a 
good  or  bad  thing  I  shall  have  an  opportunity  of  considering 
at  another  time.  But  that  the  Cretan  common  meals  are  better 
ordered  than  the  Lacedaemonian  there  can  be  no  doubt. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  Cosmi  are  even  a  worse  institution 
than  the  Ephors,  of  which  they  have  all  the  evils  without  the 
good.  Like  the  Ephors,  they  are  any  chance  persons,  but  in 
Crete  this  is  not  counterbalanced  by  a  corresponding  political 
advantage.  At  Sparta  everyone;  is  eligible,  and  the  body  of 
the  people,  having  a  share  in  the  highest  office,  want  the  State 
to  be  permanent.  But  in  Crete  the  Cosmi  are  elected  out  of 
certain  families,  and  not  out  of  the  whole  people,  and  the  Elders 
out  of  those  who  have  been  Cosmi. 

The  same  criticism  may  be  made  about  the  Cretan,  which  has 
been  already  made  about  the  Lacedaemonian  Elders.  Their 
irresponsibility  and  life  tenure  is  too  great  a  privilege,  and  their 
arbitrary  power  of  acting  upon  their  own  judgment,  and  dis- 
pensing with  written  law,  is  dangerous.  It  is  no  proof  of  the 
goodness  of  the  institution  that  the  people  are  not  discontented 
at  being  excluded  from  it.  For  there  is  no  profit  to  be  made 
out  of  the  office ;  and,  unlike  the  Ephors,  the  Cosmi,  being  in  an 
island,  are  removed  from  temptation. 

The  remedy  by  which  they  correct  the  evil  of  this  institution 
is  an  extraordinary  one,  suited  rather  to  a  close  oligarchy  than 
to  a  constitutional  State.  For  the  Cosmi  are  often  expelled 
by  a  conspiracy  of  their  own  colleagues,  or  of  private  individ- 
uals ;  and  they  are  allowed  also  to  resign  before  their  term  of 
office  has  expired.  Surely  all  matters  of  this  kind  are  better 
regulated  by  law  than  by  the  will  of  man,  which  is  a  very  unsafe 
rule.  Worst  of  all  is  the  suspension  of  the  office  of  Cosmi,  a 
device  to  which  the  nobles  often  have  recourse  when  they  will 
not  submit  to  justice.  This  shows  that  the  Cretan  Government, 
although  possessing  some  of  the  characteristics  of  a  constitu- 
tional State,  is  really  a  close  oligarchy. 

The  Cretans  have  a  habit,  too,  of  setting  up  a  chief ;  they  get 
together  a  party  among  the  common  people  and  gather  their 
friends  and  then  quarrel  and  fight  with  one  another.  What  is 
this  but  the  temporary  destruction  of  the  State  and  dissolution 
of  society?  A  city  is  in  a  dangerous  condition  when  those  who 
are  willing  are  also  able  to  attack  her.  But,  as  I  have  already 
said,  the  island  of  Crete  is  saved  by  her  situation ;  distance  has 


THE  POLITICS  49 

the  same  effect  as  the  Lacedaemonian  prohibition  of  strangers ; 
and  the  Cretans  have  no  foreign  dominions.  This  is  the  reason 
why  the  Periceci  are  contented  in  Crete,  whereas  the  Helots  are 
perpetually  revolting.  But  when  lately  foreign  invaders  found 
their  way  into  the  island,  the  weakness  of  the  Cretan  constitu- 
tion was  revealed.    Enough  of  the  government  of  Crete. 

The  Carthaginians  are  also  considered  to  have  an  excellent 
form  of  government,  which  differs  from  that  of  any  other  State 
in  several  respects,  though  it  is  in  some  very  like  the  Lace- 
daemonian. Indeed,  all  three  States — the  Lacedaemonian,  the 
Cretan,  and  the  Carthaginian — nearly  resemble  one  another, 
and  are  very  different  from  any  others.  Many  of  the  Car- 
thaginian institutions  are  excellent.  The  superiority  of  their 
constitution  is  proved  by  the  fact  that,  although  containing  an 
element  of  democracy,  it  has  been  lasting;  the  Carthaginians 
have  never  had  any  rebellion  worth  speaking  of,  and  have  never 
been  under  the  rule  of  a  tyrant. 

Among  the  points  in  which  the  Carthaginian  constitution  re- 
sembles the  Lacedaemonian  are  the  following: — The  common 
tables  of  the  clubs  answer  to  the  Spartan  phiditia,  and  their 
magistracy  of  the  104  to  the  Ephors ;  but,  whereas  the  Sphors 
are  any  chance  persons,  the  magistrates  of  the  Carthaginians 
are  elected  according  to  merit — this  is  an  improvement.  They 
have  also  their  kings  and  their  Gerusia,  or  Council  of  Elders, 
who  correspond  to  the  kings  and  Elders  of  Sparta.  Their  kings, 
unlike  the  Spartan,  are  not  always  of  the  same  family,  whatever 
that  may  happen  to  be,  but  if  there  is  some  distingfuished  fam- 
ily they  are  selected  out  of  it  and  not  appointed  by  seniority — 
this  is  far  better.  Such  officers  have  great  power,  and  there- 
fore, if  they  are  persons  of  little  worth,  do  a  great  deal  of  harm, 
and  they  have  already  done  harm  at  Lacedaemon. 

Most  of  the  defects  or  deviations  from  the  perfect  State,  for 
which  the  Carthaginian  constitution  would  be  censured,  apply 
equally  to  all  the  forms  of  government  which  we  have  men- 
tioned. But  of  the  deflections  from  aristocracy  and  constitu- 
tional government,  some  incline  more  to  democracy  and  some 
to  oligarchy.  The  kings  and  Elders,  if  unanimous,  may  deter- 
mine whether  they  will  or  will  not  bring  a  matter  before  the 
people,  but  when  they  are  not  unanimous,  the  people  may  decide 
whether  or  not  the  matter  shall  be  brought  forward.  And 
whatever  the  kings  and  Elders  bring  before  the  people  is  not 
4 


50  ARISTOTLE 

only  heard  but  also  determined  by  them,  and  anyone  who  Hkes 
may  oppose  it ;  now  this  is  not  permitted  in  Sparta  and  Crete. 
That  the  magistracies  of  five  who  have  under  them  many  im- 
portant matters  should  be  co-opted,  that  they  should  choose  the 
Supreme  Council  of  ioo,and  should  hold  office  longer  than  other 
magistrates  (for  they  are  virtually  rulers  both  before  and  after 
they  hold  office) — these  are  oligarchical  features;  their  being 
without  salary  and  not  elected  by  lot,  and  any  similar  points, 
such  as  the  practice  of  having  all  suits  tried  by  the  magistrates, 
and  not  some  by  one  class  of  judges  or  jurors  and  some  by  an- 
other, as  at  Lacedaemon,  are  characteristic  of  aristocracy.  The 
Carthaginian  constitution  deviates  from  aristocracy  and  inclines 
to  oligarchy,  chiefly  on  a  point  where  popular  opinion  is  on  their 
side.  For  men  in  general  think  that  magistrates  should  be 
chosen  not  only  for  their  merit,  but  for  their  wealth:  a  man, 
they  say,  who  is  poor  cannot  rule  well — he  has  not  the  leisure. 
If,  then,  election  of  magistrates  for  their  wealth  be  characteris- 
tic of  oligarchy,  and  election  for  merit  of  aristocracy,  there  will 
be  a  third  form  under  which  the  constitution  of  Carthage  is 
comprehended ;  for  the  Carthaginians  choose  their  magistrates, 
and  particularly  the  highest  of  them — their  kings  and  generals 
— with  an  eye  both  to  merit  and  to  wealth. 

But  we  must  acknowledge  that,  in  thus  deviating  from 
aristocracy,  the  legislator  has  committed  an  error.  Nothing  is 
more  absolutely  necessary  than  to  provide  that  the  highest  class, 
not  only  when  in  office,  but  when  out  of  office,  should  have 
leisure  and  not  demean  themselves  in  any  way ;  and  to  this  his 
attention  should  be  first  directed.  Even  if  you  must  have  re- 
gard to  wealth,  in  order  to  secure  leisure,  yet  it  is  surely  a  bad 
thing  that  the  greatest  offices,  such  as  those  of  kings  and  gen- 
erals, should  be  bought.  The  law  which  allows  this  abuse 
makes  wealth  of  more  account  than  virtue,  and  the  whole  State 
becomes  avaricious.  For,  whenever  the  chiefs  of  the  State 
deem  anything  honorable,  the  other  citizens  are  sure  to  follow 
their  example ;  and,  where  virtue  has  not  the  first  place,  there 
aristocracy  cannot  be  firmly  established.  Those  who  have  been 
at  the  expense  of  purchasing  their  places  will  be  in  the  habit 
of  repaying  themselves ;  and  it  is  absurd  to  suppose  that  a  poor 
and  honest  man  will  be  wanting  to  make  gains,  and  that  a  lower 
stamp  of  man  who  has  incurred  a  great  expense  wmII  not. 
Wherefore  they  should  rule  who  are  able  to  rule  best  [  apitrrap' 


THE  POLITICS  51 

X^tv  ].  And  even  if  the  legislator  does  not  care  to  protect  the 
good  from  poverty,  he  should  at  any  rate  secure  leisure  for 
those  in  office. 

It  would  seem  also  to  be  a  bad  principle  that  the  same  person 
should  hold  many  offices,  which  is  a  favorite  practice  among  the 
Carthaginians,  for  one  business  is  better  done  by  one  man.' 
The  legislator  should  see  to  this  and  should  not  appoint  the 
same  person  to  be  a  flute-player  and  a  shoemaker.  Hence, 
where  the  State  is  large,  it  is  more  in  accordance  both  with 
constitutional  and  with  democratic  principles  that  the  offices  of 
State  should  be  distributed  among  many  persons.  For,  as  I 
was  saying,  this  arrangement  is  more  popular,  and  any  action 
familiarized  by  repetition  is  better  and  sooner  performed.  We 
have  a  proof  in  military  and  naval  matters ;  the  duties  of  com- 
mand and  of  obedience  in  both  these  services  extend  to  all. 

The  government  of  the  Carthaginians  is  oligarchical,  but 
they  successfully  escape  the  evils  of  oligarchy  by  their  wealth, 
which  enables  them  from  time  to  time  to  send  out  some  portion 
of  the  people  to  their  colonies.  This  is  their  panacea  and  the 
means  by  which  they  give  stability  to  the  State.  Accident 
favors  them,  but  the  legislator  should  be  able  to  provide  against 
revolution  without  trusting  to  accidents.  As  things  are,  if  any 
misfortune  occurred,  and  the  people  revolted  from  their  rulers, 
there  would  be  no  way  of  restoring  peace  by  legal  methods. 

Such  is  the  character  of  the  Lacedaemonian,  Cretan,  and 
Carthaginian  constitutions,  which  are  justly  celebrated. 

Of  those  who  have  treated  of  governments,  some  have  never 
taken  any  part  at  all  in  public  affairs,  but  have  passed  their 
lives  in  a  private  station ;  about  most  of  them,  what  was  worth 
telling  has  been  already  told.  Others  have  been  lawgivers, 
either  in  their  own  or  in  foreign  cities,  whose  affairs  they  have 
administered ;  and  of  these  some  have  only  made  laws,  others 
have  framed  constitutions ;  for  example,  Lycurgus  and  Solon 
did  both.  Of  the  Lacedaemonian  constitution  I  have  already 
spoken.  As  to  Solon,  he  is  thought  by  some  to  have  been  a  good 
legislator,  who  put  an  end  to  the  exclusiveness  of  the  oligarchy, 
emancipated  the  people,  established  the  ancient  Athenian  de- 
mocracy, and  harmonized  the  different  elements  of  the  State. 
According  to  their  view,  the  Council  of  Areopagus  was  an 
oligarchical  element,  the  elected  magistracy,  aristocratical,  and 
rCp.  Plato,  Rep.  ii.  374  a. 


p 


ARISTOTLE 


the  courts  of  law,  democratical.  The  truth  seems  to  be  that  the 
Council  and  the  elected  magistracy  existed  before  the  time  of 
Solon,  and  were  retained  by  him,  but  that  he  formed  the  courts 
of  law  out  of  all  the  citizens,  thus  creating  the  democracy, 
which  is  the  very  reason  why  he  is  sometimes  blamed.  For  in 
giving  the  supreme  power  to  the  law  courts,  which  are  elected 
by  lot,  he  is  thought  to  have  destroyed  the  non-democratic  ele- 
ment. When  the  law  courts  grew  powerful,  to  please  the  peo- 
ple, who  were  now  playing  the  tyrant,  the  old  constitution  was 
changed  into  the  existing  democracy.  Ephialtes  and  Pericles 
curtailed  the  power  of  the  Areopagus ;  they  also  instituted  the 
payment  of  the  juries,  and  thus  every  demagogue  in  turn  in- 
creased the  power  of  the  democracy  until  it  became  what  we 
now  see.  All  this  is  true ;  it  seems  however  to  be  the  result  of 
circumstances,  and  not  to  have  been  intended  by  Solon.  For 
the  people  having  been  instrumental  in  gaining  the  empire  of 
the  sea  in  the  Persian  War,  began  to  get  a  notion  of  itself,  and 
followed  worthless  demagogues,  whom  the  better  class  op- 
posed. Solon,  himself,  appears  to  have  given  the  Athenians 
only  that  power  of  electing  to  offices  and  calling  to  account  the 
magistrates,  which  was  absolutely  necessary;  for  without  it 
they  would  have  been  in  a  state  of  slavery  and  enmity  to  the 
government.  All  the  magistrates  he  appointed  from  the  nota- 
bles and  the  men  of  wealth,  that  is  to  say,  from  the  pentacosio- 
medimni,  or  from  the  class  called  zeugitcs  (because  they  kept 
a  yoke  of  oxen),  or  from  a  third  class  of  so-called  knights  or 
cavalry.  The  fourth  class  were  laborers  who  had  no  share  in 
any  magistracy. 

Mere  legislators  were  Zaleucus,  who  gave  laws  to  the  Epi- 
zephyrian  Locrians,  and  Charondas,  who  legislated  for  his  own 
city  of  Catana,  and  for  the  other  Chalcidian  cities  in  Italy  and 
Sicily.  Some  persons  attempt  to  make  out  that  Onomacritus 
was  the  first  person  who  had  any  special  skill  in  legislation, 
and  that  he,  although  a  Locrian  by  birth,  was  trained  in  Crete, 
where  he  lived  in  the  exercise  of  his  prophetic  art ;  that  Thales 
was  his  companion,  and  that  Lycurgus  and  Zaleucus  were  dis- 
ciples of  Thales,  as  Charondas  was  of  Zaleucus.  But  their  ac- 
count is  quite  inconsistent  with  chronology. 

There  was  also  a  Theban  legislator,  whose  name  was 
Philolaus,  the  Corinthian.  This  Philolaus  was  one  of  the 
family  of  the  Bacchiadae,  and  a  lover  of  Diodes,  the  Olympic 


THE  POLITICS  53 

victor,  who  left  Corinth  in  horror  of  the  incestuous  passion 
which  his  mother  Haley  one  had  conceived  for  him,  and  retired 
to  Thebes,  where  the  two  friends  together  ended  their  days. 
The  inhabitants  still  point  out  their  tombs,  which  are  in  full 
view  of  one  another,  but  one  looks  towards  Corinth,  the  other 
not.  Tradition  says  that  the  two  friends  arranged  them  in  this 
way,  Diodes  out  of  horror  at  his  misfortunes,  so  that  the  land 
of  Corinth  might  not  be  visible  from  his  tomb ;  Philolaus  that 
it  might.  This  is  the  reason  why  they  settled  at  Thebes,  and  so 
Philolaus  legislated  for  the  Thebans,  and,  besides  some  other 
enactments,  gave  them  laws  about  the  procreation  of  children, 
which  they  call  the  "  Laws  of  Adoption."  These  laws  were  pe- 
culiar to  him,  and  were  intended  to  preserve  the  number  of  the 
lots. 

In  the  legislation  of  Charondas  there  is  nothing  remarkable, 
except  the  laws  about  false  witnesses.  He  is  the  first  who  insti- 
tuted actions  for  perjury.  His  laws  are  more  exact  and  more 
precisely  expressed  than  even  those  of  our  modern  legislators. 

Characteristic  of  Phaleas  is  the  equalization  of  property ;  of 
Plato,  the  community  of  women,  children,  and  property,  the 
common  meals  of  women,  and  the  law  about  drinking,  that  the 
sober  shall  be  masters  of  the  feast ;  s  also  the  training  of  soldiers 
to  acquire  by  practice  equal  skill  with  both  hands,  so  that  one 
should  be  as  useful  as  the  other.* 

Draco  has  left  laws,  but  he  adapted  them  to  a  constitution 
which  already  existed,  and  there  is  no  peculiarity  in  them  which 
is  worth  mentioning,  except  the  greatness  and  severity  of  the 
punishments. 

Pittacus,  too,  was  only  a  lawgiver,  and  not  the  author  of  a 
constitution ;  he  has  a  law  which  is  peculiar  to  him,  that,  if  a 
drunken  man  strike  another,  he  shall  be  more  heavily  punished 
than  if  he  were  sober : «  he  looked  not  to  the  excuse  which 
might  be  offered  for  the  drunkard,  but  only  to  expediency,  for 
drunken  more  often  than  sober  people  commit  acts  of  violence. 

Androdamas  of  Rhegium  gave  laws  to  the  Chalcidians  of 
Thrace.  Some  of  them  relate  to  homicide,  and  to  heiresses; 
but  there  is  nothing  remarkable  in  them. 

And  here  let  us  conclude  our  inquiry  into  the  various  consti- 
tutions which  either  actually  exist,  or  have  been  devised  by 
theorists. 

4  Cp.  Laws,  ii.  671  D-672  a.  t  Ibid.  vii.  794  a 

u  Cp.  N.  £th.  iii.  5.  i  a 


BOOK  HI 

HE  who  would  inquire  into  the  nature  and  various  kinds 
of  government  must  first  of  all  determine  "  What  is  a 
State  ?  "  At  present  this  is  a  disputed  question.  Some 
say  that  the  State  has  done  a  certain  act ;  others,  no,  not  the  State, 
but  the  oligarchy  or  the  tyrant.  And  the  legislator  or  statesman 
is  concerned  entirely  with  the  State ;  a  constitution  or  govern- 
ment being  an  arrangement  of  the  inhabitants  of  a  State.  But  a 
State  is  composite,  and,  like  any  other  whole,  made  up  of  many 
parts; — these  are  the  citizens,  who  compose  it.  It  is  evident, 
therefore,  that  we  must  begin  by  asking,  Who  is  the  citizen, 
and  what  is  the  meaning  of  the  term?  For  here  again  there 
may  be  a  difference  of  opinion.  He  who  is  a  citizen  in  a  de- 
mocracy will  often  not  be  a  citizen  in  an  oligarchy.  Leaving 
out  of  consideration  those  who  have  been  made  citizens,  or  who 
have  obtained  the  name  of  citizen  in  any  other  accidental  man- 
ner, we  may  say,  first,  that  a  citizen  is  not  a  citizen  because  he 
lives  in  a  certain  place,  for  resident  aliens  and  slaves  share  in 
the  place;  nor  is  he  a  citizen  who  has  no  legal  right  except 
that  of  suing  and  being  sued ;  for  this  right  may  be  enjoyed 
under  the  provisions  of  a  treaty.  Even  resident  aliens  in  many 
places  possess  such  rights,  although  in  an  imperfect  form ;  for 
they  are  obliged  to  have  a  patron.  Hence  they  do  but  imper- 
fectly participate  in  citizenship,  and  we  call  them  citizens  only 
in  a  qualified  sense,  as  we  might  apply  the  term  to  children  who 
are  too  young  to  be  on  the  register,  or  to  old  men  who  have 
been  relieved  from  State  duties.  Of  these  we  do  not  say  simply 
that  they  are  citizens,  but  add  in  the  one  case  that  they  are 
not  of  age,  and  in  the  other,  that  they  are  past  the  age,  or  some- 
thing of  that  sort;  the  precise  expression  is  immaterial,  for 
our  meaning  is  clear.  Similar  difficulties  to  those  which  I  have 
mentioned  may  be  raised  and  answered  about  deprived  citizens 
and  about  exiles.  But  the  citizen,  whom  we  are  seeking  to 
define,  is  a  citizen  in  the  strictest  sense,  against  whom  no  such 
exception  can  to  taken,  and  his  special  characteristic  is  that  he 

54 


THE  POLITICS  SS 

shares  in  the  administration  of  justice,  and  in  offices.  Now  of 
offices  some  have  a  Hmit  of  time,  and  the  same  persons  are  not 
allowed  to  hold  them  twice,  or  can  only  hold  them  after  a  fixed 
interval ;  others  have  no  limit  of  time — for  example,  the  office 
of  dicast  or  ecclesiast.o  It  may,  indeed,  be  argued  that  these 
are  not  magistrates  at  all,  and  that  their  functions  give  them  no 
share  in  the  government.  But  surely  it  is  ridiculous  to  say 
that  those  who  have  the  supreme  power  do  not  govern.  Not 
to  dwell  further  upon  this,  which  is  a  purely  verbal  question, 
what  we  want  is  a  common  term  including  both  dicast  and  ec- 
clesiast.  Let  us,  for  the  sake  of  distinction,  call  it  "  indefinite 
office,"  and  we  will  assume  that  those  who  share  in  such  office 
are  citizens.  This  is  the  most  comprehensive  definition  of  a 
citizen,  and  best  suits  all  those  who  are  generally  so  called. 

But  we  must  not  forget  that  things  of  which  the  underlying 
notions  differ  in  kind,  one  of  them  being  first,  another  second, 
another  third,  have,  when  regarded  in  this  relation,  nothing,  or 
hardly  anything,  worth  mentioning  in  common.  Now  we  see 
that  governments  diflfer  in  kind,  and  that  some  of  them  are 
prior  and  that  others  are  posterior;  those  which  are  faulty  or 
perverted  are  necessarily  posterior  to  those  which  are  perfect. 
(What  we  mean  by  perA^ersion  will  be  hereafter  explained.) 
The  citizen  then  of  necessity  dfffers  under  each  form  of  gov- 
ernment ;  and  our  definition  is  best  adapted  to  the  citizen  of  a 
democracy ;  but  not  necessarily  to  other  States.  For  in  some 
States  the  people  are  not  acknowledged,  nor  have  they  any 
regular  assembly,  but  only  extraordinary  ones;  and  suits  are 
distributed  in  turn  among  the  magistrates.  At  Lacedaemon, 
for  instance,  the  Ephors  determine  suits  about  contracts,  which 
they  distribute  among  themselves,  while  the  elders  are  judges  of 
homicide,  and  other  causes  are  decided  by  other  magistrates. 
A  similar  principle  prevails  at  Carthage ;  there  certain  magis- 
trates decide  all  causes.  We  may,  indeed,  modify  our  definition 
of  the  citizen  so  as  to  include  these  States.  [But  strictly  taken 
it  only  applies  in  democracies.]  In  other  States  it  is  the  holder 
of  a  definite,  not  of  an  indefinite  office,  who  legislates  and 
judges,  and  to  some  or  all  such  holders  of  definite  offices  is  re- 
served the  right  of  deliberating  or  judging  about  some  things 
or  about  all  things.  The  conception  of  the  citizen  now  begins  to 
clear  up. 

o  "  Dicast  "  =  juryman  and  judge  in  one:  "  ecclesiast  "  =  member 
of  the  Ecclesia,  or  assembly  of  the  citizens. 


56  ARISTOTLE 

He  who  has  the  power  to  take  part  in  the  dehberative  or 
judicial  administration  of  any  State  is  said  by  us  to  be  a  citizen 
of  that  State ;  and  speaking  generally,  a  State  is  a  body  of  citi- 
zens sufficing  for  the  purposes  of  life. 

But  in  practice  a  citizen  is  defined  to  be  one  of  whom  both 
the  parents  are  citizens;  others  insist  on  going  further  back; 
say  to  two  or  three  or  more  grandparents.  This  is  a  short  and 
practical  definition;  but  there  are  some  who  raise  the  further 
question:  How  this  third  or  fourth  ancestor  came  to  be  a 
citizen?  Gorgias  of  Leontini,  partly  because  he  was  in  a  diffi- 
culty, partly  in  irony,  said,  "  Mortars  are  made  by  the  mortar- 
makers,  and  the  citizens  of  Larissa  are  also  a  manufactured 
article,  made,  like  the  kettles  which  bear  their  name  \\apiaaioL], 
by  the  magistrates.''^  Yet  the  question  is  really  simple,  for, 
if  according  to  the  definition  just  given  they  shared  in  the 
government,  they  were  citizens.  [This  is  a  better  definition 
than  the  other.]  For  the  words,  "  born  of  a  father  or  mother, 
who  is  a  citizen,"  cannot  possibly  apply  to  the  first  inhabitants 
or  founders  of  a  State. 

There  is  a  greater  difficulty  in  the  case  of  those  who  have 
been  made  citizens  after  a  revolution,  as  by  Cleisthenes  at 
Athens  after  the  expulsion  of  the  tyrants,  for  he  enrolled  in 
tribes  a  number  of  strangers  and  slaves  and  resident  aliens. 
The  doubt  in  these  cases  is,  not  who  is,  but  whether  he,  who 
is,  ought  to  be  a  citizen ;  and  there  will  still  be  a  further  doubt, 
whether  he  who  ought  not  to  be  a  citizen,  is  one  in  fact,  for 
what  ought  not  to  be  is  what  is  false  and  is  not.  Now,  there 
are  some  who  hold  office,  and  yet  ought  not  to  hold  office,  whom 
we  call  rulers,  although  they  rule  unjustly.  And  the  citizen 
was  defined  by  the  fact  of  his  holding  some  kind  of  rule  or 
office — he  who  holds  a  judicial  or  legislative  office  fulfils  our 
definition  of  a  citizen.  It  is  evident,  therefore,  that  the  citi- 
zens about  whom  the  doubt  has  arisen  must  be  called  citizens ; 
whether  they  ought  to  be  so  or  not  is  a  question  which  is  bound 
up  with  the  previous  inquiry. 

A  parallel  question  is  raised  respecting  the  State  whether 
a  certain  act  is  or  is  not  an  act  of  the  State ;  for  example,  in 
the  transition  from  an  oligarchy  or  a  tyranny  to  a  democracy. 
In  such  cases  persons  refuse  to  fulfil  their  contracts  or  any 

b  An  untranslatable  play  upon  the  word  tiuumpyol,  which  means 
nther  "  a  magistrate  "  or  "  an  artisan." 


THE  POLITICS  57 

other  obligations,  on  the  ground  that  the  tyrant,  and  not  the 
State,  contracted  them ;  they  argue  that  some  constitutions 
are  estabhshed  by  force,  and  not  for  the  sake  of  the  common 
good.  But  this  would  apply  equally  to  democracies,  for  they 
too  may  be  founded  on  violence,  and  then  the  acts  of  the  de- 
mocracy will  be  neither  more  nor  less  legitimate  than  those 
of  an  oligarchy  or  of  a  tyranny.  This  question  runs  up  into 
another: — when  shall  we  say  that  the  State  is  the  same,  and 
when  different?  It  would  be  a  very  superficial  view  which 
considered  only  the  place  and  the  inhabitants ;  for  the  soil  and 
the  population  may  be  separated,  and  some  of  the  inhabitants 
may  live  in  one  place  and  some  in  another.  This,  however,  is 
not  a  very  serious  difficulty;  we  need  only  remark  that  the 
word  "  state  "  is  ambiguous,  meaning  both  State  and  city. 

It  is  further  ask  d :  When  are  men,  living  in  the  same  place, 
to  be  regarded  as  a  single  city — what  is  the  limit?  Certainly 
not  the  wall  of  the  city,  for  you  might  surround  all  Pelopon- 
nesus with  a  wall.  But  a  city,  having  such  vast  circuit,  would 
contain  a  nation  rather  than  a  State,  like  Babylon,  which,  as 
they  say,  had  been  taken  for  three  days  before  some  part  of 
the  inhabitants  became  aware  of  the  fact.  This  difficulty  may, 
however,  wuth  advantage  be  deferred  to  another  occasion ;  the 
statesman  has  to  consider  the  size  of  the  State,  and  whether 
it  should  consist  of  more  than  one  nation  or  not. 

Again,  shall  we  say  that  while  the  race  of  inhabitants,  as 
well  as  their  place  of  abode,  remain  the  same,  the  city  is  also 
the  same,  although  the  citizens  are  always  dying  and  being 
bom,  as  we  call  rivers  and  fountains  the  same,  although  the 
water  is  always  flowing  away  and  coming  again?  Or  shall 
we  say  that  the  generations  of  men,  like  the  rivers,  are  the  same, 
but  that  the  State  changes?  For,  since  the  State  is  a  com- 
munity and  a  community  is  made  up  of  citizens,  when  the  form 
of  the  government  changes  and  becomes  different,  then  it 
may  be  supposed  that  the  State  is  no  longer  the  same,  just  as 
a  tragic  differs  from  ?.  comic  chorus,  although  the  members 
of  both  may  be  identical.  And  in  this  manner  we  speak  of 
every  union  or  composition  of  elements,  when  the  form  of 
their  composition  alters;  for  example,  harmony  of  the  same 
sounds  is  said  to  be  different,  accordingly  as  the  Dorian  or  the 
Phrygian  mode  is  employed.  And  if  this  is  true  it  is  evident 
that  the  sameness  of  the  State  consists  chiefly  in  the  sameness 


58 


ARISTOTLE 


of  the  constitution,  and  may  be  called  or  not  called  by  the 
same  name,  whether  the  inhabitants  are  the  same  or  entirely 
different.  It  is  quite  another  question,  whether  a  State  ought 
or  ought  not  to  fulfil  engagements  when  the  form  of  govern- 
ment changes. 

There  is  a  point  nearly  allied  to  the  preceding:  Whether 
the  virtue  of  a  good  man  and  a  good  citizen  is  the  same  or 
not.f  But,  before  entering  on  this  discussion,  we  must  first 
obtain  some  general  notion  of  the  virtue  of  the  citizen.  Like 
the  sailor,  the  citizen  is  a  member  of  a  community.  Now, 
sailors  have  different  functions,  for  one  of  them  is  a  rower, 
another  a  pilot,  and  a  third  a  lookout  man,  a  fourth  is  de- 
scribed by  some  similar  term ;  and  while  the  precise  definition 
of  each  individual's  virtue  applies  exclusively  to  him,  there 
is,  at  the  same  time,  a  common  definition  applicable  to  them 
all.  For  they  have  all  of  them  a  common  object,  which  is 
safety  in  navigation.  Similarly,  one  citizen  differs  from  an- 
other, but  the  salvation  of  the  community  is  the  common  busi- 
ness of  them  all.  This  community  is  the  State ;  the  virtue  of 
the  citizen  must  therefore  be  relative  to  the  constitution  of 
which  he  is  a  member.  If,  then,  there  are  many  forms  of  gov- 
ernment, it  is  evident  that  the  virtue  of  the  good  citizen  can- 
not be  the  one  perfect  virtue.  But  we  say  that  the  good  man 
is  he  who  has  perfect  virtue.  Hence  it  is  evident  that  the  good 
citizen  need  not  of  necessity  possess  the  virtue  which  makes  a 
good  man. 

The  same  question  may  also  be  approached  by  another  road, 
from  a  consideration  of  the  perfect  State.  If  the  State  can- 
not be  entirely  composed  of  good  men,  and  etch  citizen  is 
expected  to  do  his  own  business  well,  and  must  therefore  have 
virtue,  inasmuch  as  all  the  citizens  cannot  be  alike,  the  virtue 
of  the  citizen  and  of  the  good  man  cannot  coincide.  All  must 
have  the  virtue  of  the  good  citizen — thus,  and  thus  only,  can 
the  State  be  perfect ;  but  they  will  not  have  the  virtue  of  a  good 
man,  unless  we  assume  that  in  the  good  State  all  the  citizens 
must  be  good. 

Again,  the  State  may  be  compared  to  the  living  being:   as 

the  first  elements  into  which  the  living  being  is  resolved  are 

soul  and  body,  as  the  soui  is  made  up  of  reason  and  appetite, 

the  family  of  husband  and  wife,  property  of  master  and  slave, 

c  Cp.  N.  Eth.  V.  2,  §  II. 


THE  POLITICS  59 

so  out  of  all  these,  as  well  as  other  dissimilar  elements,  the 
State  is  composed ;  and,  therefore,  the  virtue  of  all  the  citizens 
cannot  possibly  be  the  same,  any  more  than  the  excellence  of 
the  leader  of  a  chorus  is  the  same  as  that  of  the  performer  who 
stands  by  his  side.  I  have  said  enough  to  show  why  the  two 
kinds  of  virtue  cannot  be  absolutely  and  always  the  same. 

But  will  there  then  be  no  case  in  which  the  virtue  of  the 
good  citizen  and  the  virtue  of  the  good  man  coincide?  To 
this  we  answer  [not  that  the  good  citizen,  but]  that  the  good 
ruler  is  a  good  and  wise  man,  and  that  he  who  would  be  a 
statesman  must  be  a  wise  man.  And  some  persons  say  that 
even  the  education  of  the  ruler  should  be  of  a  special  kind; 
for  are  not  the  children  of  kings  instructed  in  riding  and  mili- 
tary exercises  ?    As  Euripides  says : 

"  No  subtle  arts  for  me,  but  what  the  State  requires." 

As  though  there  were  a  special  education  needed  by  a  ruler. 
If  then  the  virtue  of  a  good  ruler  is  the  same  as  that  of  a  good 
man,  and  we  assume  further  that  the  subject  is  a  citizen  as 
well  as  the  ruler,  the  virtue  of  the  good  citizen  and  the  virtue 
of  the  good  man  cannot  be  always  the  same,  although  in  some 
cases  [i.e.  in  the  perfect  State]  they  may;  for  the  virtue  of  a 
ruler  differs  from  that  of  a  citizen.  It  was  the  sense  of  this 
difference  which  made  Jason  say  that  "  he  felt  hungry  when 
he  was  not  a  tyrant,"  meaning  that  he  could  not  endure  to  live 
in  a  private  station.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  it  may  be  argued 
that  men  are  praised  for  knowing  both  how  to  rule  and  how 
to  obey,  and  he  is  said  to  be  a  citizen  of  approved  virtue  who 
is  able  to  do  both.  Now  if  we  suppose  the  virtue  of  a  good 
man  to  be  that  which  rules,  and  the  virtue  of  the  citizen  to 
include  ruling  and  obeying,  it  cannot  be  said  that  they  are 
equally  worthy  of  praise.  Seeing,  then,  that  according  to 
common  opinion  the  ruler  and  the  ruled  must  at  some  time  or 
other  learn  the  duties  of  both,  but  that  what  they  learn  is 
different,  and  that  the  citizen  must  know  and  share  in  them 
both ;  the  inference  is  obvious.<i  There  is,  indeed,  the  rule  of 
a  master  which  is  concerned  with  menial  offices — the  master 
need  not  know  how  to  perform  these,  but  may  employ  others 
in  the  execution  of  them :   anything  else  would  be  degrading ; 

d  Viz.,  that  some  kind  of  previous  subjection  is  an  advantage  to  the 
ruler. 


6o  ARISTOTLE 

and  by  anything  else  I  mean  the  menial  duties  which  vary 
much  in  character  and  are  executed  by  various  classes  of  slaves, 
such,  for  example,  as  handicraftsmen,  who,  as  their  name  sig- 
nifies, live  by  the  labor  of  their  hands: — under  these  the  me- 
chanic is  included.  Hence  in  ancient  times,  and  among  some 
nations,  the  working  classes  had  no  share  in  the  government 
— a  privilege  which  they  only  acquired  under  the  extreme 
democracy.  Certainly  the  good  man  and  the  statesman  and 
the  good  citizen  ought  not  to  learn  the  crafts  of  inferiors  ex- 
cept for  their  own  occasional  use;  if  they  habitually  practise 
them,  there  will  cease  to  be  a  distinction  between  master  and 
slave. 

This  is  not  the  rule  of  which  we  are  speaking;  but  there 
is  a  rule  of  another  kind,  which  is  exercised  over  freemen  and 
equals  by  birth — a  constitutional  rule,  which  the  ruler  must 
learn  by  obeying,  as  he  would  learn  the  duties  of  a  general  of 
cavalry  by  being  under  the  orders  of  a  general  of  cavalry,  or 
the  duties  of  a  general  of  infantry  by  being  under  the  orders 
of  a  general  of  infantry,  or  by  having  had  the  command  of  a 
company  or  brigade.  It  has  been  well  said  that  "  he  who  has 
never  learned  to  obey  cannot  be  a  good  commander."  The 
two  are  not  the  same,  but  the  good  citizen  ought  to  be  capable 
of  both ;  he  should  know  how  to  govern  like  a  freeman,  and 
how  to  obey  like  a  freeman — these  are  the  virtues  of  a  citizen. 
And,  although  the  temperance  and  justice  of  a  ruler  are  dis- 
tinct from  those  of  a  subject,  the  virtue  of  a  good  man  will 
include  both;  for  the  good  man,  who  is  free  and  also  a  sub- 
ject, will  not  have  one  virtue  only,  say  justice — but  he  will 
have  distinct  kinds  of  virtue,  the  one  qualifying  him  to  rule, 
the  other  to  obey,  and  differing  as  the  temperance  and  courage 
of  men  and  women  differ.  For  a  man  would  be  thought  a 
coward  if  he  had  no  more  courage  than  a  courageous  woman, 
and  a  woman  would  be  thought  loquacious  if  she  imposed  no 
more  restraint  on  her  conversation  than  a  good  man ;  and  in- 
deed their  part  in  the  management  of  the  household  is  differ- 
ent, for  the  duty  of  the  one  is  to  acquire,  and  of  the  other  to 
preserve.  Practical  wisdom  only  is  characteristic  of  the  ruler : « 
it  would  seem  that  all  other  virtues  must  equally  belong  to 
ruler  and  subject.  The  virtue  of  the  subject  is  certainly  not 
wisdom,  but  only  true  opinion;  he  may  be  compared  to  the 
e  Cp.  Rep.  iv.  428. 


THE  POLITICS  6i 

maker  of  the  flute,  while  his  master  is  like  the  flute-player  or 
user  of  the  flute/ 

From  these  considerations  may  be  gathered  the  answer  to 
the  question,  whether  the  virtue  of  the  good  man  is  the  same 
as  that  of  the  good  citizen,  or  different,  and  how  far  the  same, 
and  how  far  different. 

There  still  remains  one  more  question  about  the  citizen:  Is 
he  only  a  true  citizen  who  has  a  share  of  office,  or  is  the  me- 
chanic to  be  included?  If  they  who  hold  no  office  are  to  be 
deemed  citizens,  not  every  citizen  can  have  this  virtue  of  rul- 
ing and  obeying  which  makes  a  citizen.  And  if  none  of  the 
lower  class  are  citizens,  in  which  part  of  the  State  are  they  to 
be  placed  ?  For  they  are  not  resident  aliens,  and  they  are  not 
foreigners.  To  this  objection  may  we  not  reply,  that  there 
is  no  more  absurdity  in  excluding  them  than  in  excluding 
slaves  and  f reedmen  from  any  of  the  above-mentioned  classes  ? 
It  must  be  admitted  that  we  cannot  consider  all  those  to  be 
citizens  who  are  necessary  to  the  existence  of  the  State;  for 
example,  children  are  not  citizens  equally  with  grown  up  men, 
who  are  citizens  absolutely,  but  children,  not  being  grown  up, 
are  only  citizens  in  a  qualified  sense.  Doubtless  in  ancient 
times,  and  among  some  nations,  the  artisan  class  were  slaves 
or  foreigners,  and  therefore  the  majority  of  them  are  so  now. 
The  best  form  of  State  will  not  admit  them  to  citizenship ;  but 
if  they  are  admitted,  then  our  definition  of  the  virtue  of  a 
citizen  will  apply  to  some  citizens  and  freemen  only,  and  not 
to  those  who  work  for  their  living.  The  latter  class,  to  whom 
toil  is  a  necessity,  are  either  slaves  who  minister  to  the  wants 
of  individuals,  or  mechanics  and  laborers  who  are  the  servants 
of  the  community.  These  reflections  carried  a  little  further 
will  explain  their  position ;  and  indeed  what  has  been  said 
already  is  of  itself  explanation  enough. 

Since  there  are  many  forms  of  government  there  must  be 
many  varieties  of  citizens,  and  especially  of  citizens  who  are 
subjects ;  so  that  under  some  governments  the  mechanic  and 
the  laborer  will  be  citizens,  but  not  in  others,  as,  for  example, 
in  aristocracy  or  the  so-called  government  of  the  best  (if  there 
be  such  a  one),  in  which  honors  are  given  according  to  virtue 
and  merit;  for  no  man  can  practice  virtue  who  is  living  the 
life  of  a  mechanic  or  laborer.  In  oligarchies  the  qualification 
/  Cp.  Rep.  X.  6oi  D,  E. 


6s  ARISTOTLE 

for  office  is  high,  and  therefore  no  laborer  can  ever  be  a  citi- 
zen; but  a  mechanic  may,  for  many  of  them  are  rich.  At 
Thebes  there  was  a  law  that  no  man  could  hold  office  who  had 
not  retired  from  business  for  ten  years.  In  many  States  the 
law  goes  to  the  length  of  admitting  aliens ;  for  in  some  de- 
mocracies a  man  is  a  citizen  though  his  mother  only  be  a  citi- 
zen [and  his  father  an  alien]  ;  and  a  similar  principle  is  ap- 
plied to  illegitimate  children;  the  law  is  relaxed  when  there 
is  a  dearth  of  population.  But  when  the  number  of  citizens 
increases,  first  the  children  of  a  male  or  a  female  slave  are 
excluded;  then  those  whose  mothers  only  are  citizens;  and 
at  last  the  right  of  citizenship  is  confined  to  those  whose  fathers 
and  mothers  are  both  citizens. 

Hence,  as  is  evident,  there  are  different  kinds  of  citizens; 
and  he  is  a  citizen  in  the  highest  sense  who  shares  in  the 
honors  of  the  State.  In  the  poems  of  Homer  Achilles  com- 
plains of  Agamemnon  treating  him  "  like  some  dishonored 
stranger  " ;  g  for  he  who  is  excluded  from  the  honors  of  the 
State  is  no  better  than  an  alien.  But  when  this  exclusion  is 
concealed,  then  the  object  is  that  the  privileged  class  may  de- 
ceive their  fellow-citizens. 

As  to  the  question  whether  the  virtue  of  the  good  man  is 
the  same  as  that  of  the  good  citizen,  the  considerations  already 
adduced  prove  that  in  some  States  the  two  are  the  same,  and 
in  others  diflFerent,  When  they  are  the  same  it  is  not  the  vir- 
tue of  every  citizen  which  is  the  same  as  that  of  the  good  man, 
but  only  the  virtue  of  the  statesman  and  of  those  who  have  or 
may  have,  alone  or  in  conjunction  with  others,  the  conduct  of 
public  affairs. 

Having  determined  these  questions,  we  have  next  to  con- 
sider whether  there  is  only  one  form  of  government  or  many, 
and  if  many,  what  they  are,  and  how  many,  and  what  are  the 
differences  between  them. 

A  constitution  is  the  arrangement  of  magistracies  in  a  State, 
especially  of  the  highest  of  all.  The  government  is  every- 
where sovereign  in  the  State,  and  the  constitution  is  in  fact 
the  government.  For  example,  in  democracies  the  people  are 
supreme,  but  in  oligarchies,  the  few;  and,  therefore,  we  say 
that  these  two  forms  of  government  are  different :  and  so  in 
other  cases. 

gll.  ix.  648. 


•THE  POLITICS  ,    6s 

First,  let  us  consider  what  is  the  purpose  of  a  State,  and 
how  many  forms  of  government  there  are  by  which  human 
society  is  regulated.  We  have  already  said,  in  the  former  part 
of  this  treatise,  when  drawing  a  distinction  between  house- 
hold management  and  the  rule  of  a  master,  that  man  is  by 
nature  a  political  animal.  And,  therefore,  men,  even  when  they 
do  not  require  one  another's  help,  desire  to  live  together  all 
the  same,  and  are  in  fact  brought  together  by  their  common 
interests  in  proportion  as  they  severally  attain  to  any  measure 
of  well-being.  This  is  certainly  the  chief  end,  both  of  indi- 
viduals and  of  States.  And  also  for  the  sake  of  mere  life  (in 
which  there  is  possibly  some  noble  element)  mankind  meet 
together  and  maintain  the  political  community,  so  long  as  the 
evils  of  existence  do  not  greatly  overbalance  the  good.^  And 
we  all  see  that  men  cling  to  life  even  in  the  midst  of  misfortune, 
seeming  to  find  in  it  a  natural  sweetness  and  happiness. 

There  is  no  difficulty  in  distinguishing  the  various  kinds  of 
authority;  they  have  been  often  defined  already  in  popular 
works.  The  rule  of  a  master,  although  the  slave  by  nature 
and  the  master  by  nature  have  in  reality  the  same  interests,  is 
nevertheless  exercised  primarily  with  a  view  to  the  interest  of 
the  master,  but  accidentally  considers  the  slave,  since,  if  the 
slave  perish,  the  rule  of  the  master  perishes  with  him.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  government  of  a  wife  and  children  and  of 
a  household,  which  we  have  called  household  management,  is 
exercised  in  the  first  instance  for  the  good  of  the  governed  or 
for  the  common  good  of  both  parties,  but  essentially  for  the 
good  of  the  governed,  as  we  see  to  be  the  case  in  medicine, 
gymnastic,  and  the  arts  in  general,  which  are  only  accidentally 
concerned  with  the  good  of  the  artists  themselves.*  ( For  there 
is  no  reason  why  the  trainer  may  not  sometimes  practise  gym- 
nastics, and  the  pilot  is  always  one  of  the  crew.)  The  trainer 
or  the  pilot  considers  the  good  of  those  committed  to  his  care. 
But,  when  he  is  one  of  the  persons  taken  care  of,  he  acci- 
dentally participates  in  the  advantage,  for  the  pilot  is  also  a 
sailor,  and  the  trainer  becomes  one  of  those  in  training.  And 
so  in  politics:  when  the  State  is  framed  upon  the  principle 
of  equality  and  likeness,  the  citizens  think  that  they  ought  to 
hold  office  by  turns.  In  the  order  of  nature  everyone  would 
take  his  turn  of  service ;  and  then  again,  somebody  else  would 

h  Cp.  Plato,  Polit.  302  A.  i  Cp.  PI.  Rep.  i.  341  n. 


64  ARISTOTLE 

look  after  his  interest,  just  as  he,  while  in  office,  had  looked 
after  theirs.  [That  was  originally  the  way.]  But  nowa- 
days, for  the  sake  of  the  advantage  which  is  to  be  gained  from 
the  public  revenues  and  from  office,  men  want  to  be  always  in 
office.  One  might  imagine  that  the  rulers,  being  sickly,  were 
only  kept  in  health  while  they  continued  in  office ;  in  that  case 
we  may  be  sure  that  they  would  be  hunting  after  places.  The 
conclusion  is  evident :  that  governments,  which  have  a  regard 
to  the  common  interest,  are  constituted  in  accordance  with 
strict  principles  of  justice,  and  are  therefore  true  forms;  but 
those  which  regard  only  the  interest  of  the  rulers  are  all  de- 
fective and  perverted  forms,  for  they  are  despotic,  whereas  a 
State  is  a  community  of  freemen. 

Having  determined  these  points,  we  have  next  to  consider 
how  many  forms  of  government  there  are,  and  what  they  are ; 
and  in  the  first  place  what  are  the  true  forms,  for  when  they 
are  determined  the  perversions  of  them  will  at  once  be  ap- 
parent. The  words  "  constitution  "  and  "  government  "  have 
the  same  meaning,  and  the  government,  which  is  the  supreme 
authority  in  States,  must  be  in  the  hands  of  one,  or  of  a  few, 
or  of  many.  The  true  forms  of  government,  therefore,  are 
those  in  which  the  one,  or  the  few,  or  the  many,  govern  with 
a  view  to  the  common  interest;  but  governments  which  rule 
with  a  view  to  the  private  interest,  whether  of  the  one,  or  of 
the  few,  or  of  the  many,  are  perversions.;  For  citizens,  if  they 
are  truly  citizens,  ought  to  participate  in  the  advantages  of  a 
State.  Of  forms  of  government  in  which  one  rules,  we  call 
that  which  regards  the  common  interests,  kingship  or  royalty; 
that  in  which  more  than  one,  but  not  many,  rule,  aristocracy 
[the  rule  of  the  best]  ;  and  it  is  so  called,  either  because  the 
rulers  are  the  best  men,  or  because  they  have  at  heart  the  best 
interests  of  the  State  and  of  the  citizens.  But  when  the  citi- 
zens at  large  administer  the  State  for  the  common  interest, 
the  government  is  called  by  the  generic  name — a  constitution 
[TroXtreia].  And  there  is  a  reason  for  this  use  of  language. 
One  man  or  a  few  may  excel  in  virtue ;  but  of  virtue  there  are 
many  kinds :  and  as  the  number  increases  it  becomes  more 
difficult  for  them  to  attain  perfection  in  very  kind,  though  they 
may  in  military  virtue,  for  this  is  found  in  the  masses.  Hence,  in 
a  constitutional  government  the  fighting-men  have  the  supreme 
power,  and  those  who  possess  arms  are  the  citizens. 
j  Cp.  Eth.  viii.  lo. 


THE  POLITICS  65 

Of  the  above-mentioned  forms,  the  perversions  are  as  fol- 
lows : — of  royalty,  tyranny ;  of  aristocracy,  oligarchy ;  of  con- 
stitutional government,  democracy.  For  tyranny  is  a  kind  of 
monarchy  which  has  in  view  the  interest  of  the  monarch  only ; 
oligarchy  has  in  view  the  interest  of  the  wealthy ;  democracy, 
of  the  needy :  none  of  them  the  common  good  of  all. 

But  there  are  difficulties  about  these  forms  of  government, 
and  it  will  therefore  be  necessary  to  state  a  little  more  at  length 
the  nature  of  each  of  them.  For  he  who  would  make  a  philo- 
sophical study  of  the  various  sciences,  and  does  not  regard 
practice  only,  ought  not  to  overlook  or  omit  anything,  but  to 
set  forth  the  truth  in  every  particular.  Tyranny,  as  I  was  say- 
ing, is  monarchy  exercising  the  rule  of  a  master  over  political 
society;  oligarchy  is  when  men  of  property  have  the  govern- 
ment in  their  hands;  democracy,  the  opposite,  when  the  in- 
digent, and  not  the  men  of  property,  are  the  rulers.  And 
here  arises  the  first  of  our  difficulties,  and  it  relates  to  the  defini- 
tion just  given.  For  democracy  is  said  to  be  the  government  of 
the  many.  But  what  if  the  many  are  men  of  property  and 
have  the  power  in  their  hands?  In  like  manner  oligarchy  is 
said  to  be  the  government  of  the  few;  but  what  if  the  poor 
are  fewer  than  the  rich,  and  have  the  power  in  their  hands 
because  they  are  stronger?  In  these  cases  the  distinction  which 
we  have  drawn  between  these  different  forms  of  government 
would  no  longer  hold  good. 

Suppose,  once  more,  that  we  add  wealth  to  the  few  and 
poverty  to  the  many,  and  name  the  governments  accordingly — 
an  oligarchy  is  said  to  be  that  in  which  the  few  and  the  wealthy, 
and  a  democracy  that  in  which  the  many  and  the  poor  are 
the  rulers — there  will  still  be  a  difficulty.  For,  if  the  only  forms 
of  government  are  the  ones  already  mentioned,  how  shall  we 
describe  those  other  governments  also  just  mentioned  by  us, 
in  which  the  rich  are  the  more  numerous  and  the  poor  are 
the  fewer,  and  both  govern  in  their  respective  States? 

The  argument  seems  to  show  that,  whether  in  oligarchies 
or  in  democracies,  the  number  of  the  governing  body,  whether 
the  greater  number,  as  in  a  democracy,  or  the  smaller  number, 
as  in  an  oligarchy,  is  an  accident  due  to  the  fact  that  the  rich 
everywhere  are  few,  and  the  poor  numerous.  But  if  so,  there 
is  a  misapprehension  of  the  causes  of  the  difference  between 
them.  For  the  real  difference  between  democracy  and  oli- 
5 


66  ARISTOTLE 

garchy  is  poverty  and  wealth.  Wherever  men  rule  by  reason 
of  their  wealth,  whether  they  be  few  or  many,  that  is  an  oli- 
garchy, and  where  the  poor  rule,  that  is  a  democracy.  But 
as  a  fact  the  rich  are  few  and  the  poor  many:  for  few  are 
well-to-do,  whereas  freedom  is  enjoyed  by  all,  and  wealth  and 
freedom  are  the  grounds  on  which  the  oligarchical  and  demo- 
cratical  parties  respectively  claim  power  in  the  State. 

Let  us  begin  by  considering  the  common  definitions  of  oli- 
garchy and  democracy,  and  what  is  justice  oligarchical  and 
democratical.  For  all  men  cling  to  justice  of  some  kind,  but 
their  conceptions  are  imperfect  and  they  do  not  express  the 
whole  idea.  For  example,  justice  is  thought  by  them  to  be, 
and  is,  equality,  not,  however,  for  all,  but  only  for  equals.  And 
inequality  is  thought  to  be,  and  is,  justice;  neither  is  this  for 
all,  but  only  for  unequals.  When  the  persons  are  omitted,  then 
men  judge  erroneously.  The  reason  is  that  they  are  passing 
judgment  on  themselves,  and  most  people  are  bad  judges  in 
their  own  case.  And  whereas  justice  implies  a  relation  to  per- 
sons as  well  as  to  things,  and  a  just  distribution,  as  I  have 
already  said  in  the  "Ethics,"^  embraces  alike  persons  and  things, 
they  acknowledge  the  equality  of  the  things,  but  dispute  about 
the  merit  of  the  persons,  chiefly  for  the  reason  which  I  have 
just  given — because  they  are  bad  judges  in  their  own  affairs ; 
and  secondly,  because  both  the  parties  to  the  argument  are 
speaking  of  a  limited  and  partial  justice,  but  imagine  them- 
selves to  be  speaking  of  absolute  justice.  For  those  who  are 
unequal  in  one  respect,  for  example  wealth,  consider  them- 
selves to  be  unequal  in  all;  and  any  who  are  equal  in  one 
respect,  for  example  freedom,  consider  themselves  to  be  equal 
in  all.  But  they  leave  out  the  capital  point.  For  if  men  met 
and  associated  out  of  regard  to  wealth  only,  their  share  in 
the  State  would  be  proportioned  to  their  property,  and  the 
oligarchical  doctrine  would  then  seem  to  carry  the  day.  It 
would  not  be  just  that  he  who  paid  one  mina  should  have  the 
same  share  of  a  hundred  minae,  whether  of  the  principal  or 
of  the  profits,  as  he  who  paid  the  remaining  ninety-nine.  But 
a  State  exists  for  the  sake  of  a  good  life,  and  not  for  the  sake 
of  life  only:  if  life  only  were  the  object,  slaves  and  brute 
animals  might  form  a  State,  but  they  cannot,  for  they  have  no 
share  in  happiness  or  in  a  life  of  free  choice.  Nor  does  a  State 
k  Nicom.  Ethics,  v.  3,  §  4. 


THE  POLITICS  67 

exist  for  the  sake  of  alliance  and  security  from  injustice,  nor 
yet  for  the  sake  of  exchange  and  mutual  intercourse ;  for  then 
the  Tyrrhenians  and  the  Carthaginians,  and  all  who  have  com- 
mercial treaties  with  one  another,  would  be  the  citizens  of  one 
State.  True,  they  have  agreements  about  imports,  and  en- 
gagements that  they  will  do  no  wrong  to  one  another,  and 
written  articles  of  alliance.  But  there  are  no  magistracies  com- 
mon to  the  contracting  parties  who  will  enforce  their  engage- 
ments ;  different  States  have  each  their  own  magistracies.  Nor 
does  one  State  take  care  that  the  citizens  of  the  other  are  such 
as  they  ought  to  be,  nor  see  that  those  who  come  under  the 
terms  of  the  treaty  do  no  wrong  or  wickedness  at  all,  but  only 
that  they  do  no  injustice  to  one  another.  Whereas,  those  who 
care  for  good  government  take  into  consideration  [the  larger 
question  of]  virtue  and  vice  in  States.  Whence  it  may  be 
further  inferred  that  virtue  must  be  the  serious  care  of  a  State 
which  truly  deserves  the  name:  for  [without  this  ethical  end] 
the  community  becomes  a  mere  alliance  which  differs  only  in 
place  from  alliances  of  which  the  members  live  apart ;  and  law 
is  only  a  convention,  "  a  surety  to  one  another  of  justice,"  as 
the  sophist  Lycophron  says,  and  has  no  real  power  to  make  the 
citizens  good  and  just. 

This  is  obvious ;  for  suppose  distinct  places,  such  as  Corinth 
and  Megara,  to  be  united  by  a  wall,  still  they  would  not  be  one 
city,  not  even  if  the  citizens  had  the  right  to  intermarry,  which 
is  one  of  the  rights  peculiarly  characteristic  of  States.  Again, 
if  men  dwelt  at  a  distance  from  one  another,  but -not  so  far 
off  as  to  have  no  intercourse,  and  there  were  laws  among  them 
that  they  should  not  wrong  each  other  in  their  exchanges, 
neither  would  this  be  a  State.  Let  us  suppose  that  one  man  is 
a  carpenter,  another  a  husbandman,  another  a  shoemaker,  and 
so  on,  and  that  their  number  is  ten  thousand:  nevertheless, 
if  they  have  nothing  in  common  but  exchange,  alliance,  and 
the  like,  that  would  not  constitute  a  State.  Why  is  this? 
Surely  not  because  they  are  at  a  distance  from  one  another: 
for  even  supposing  that  such  a  community  were  to  meet  in  one 
place,  and  that  each  man  had  a  house  of  his  own,  which  was 
in  a  manner  his  State,  and  that  they  made  alliance  with  one 
another,  but  only  against  evil-doers ;  still  an  accurate  thinker 
would  not  deem  this  to  be  a  State,  if  their  intercourse  with  one 
another  was  of  the  same  character  after  as  before  their  union. 


68  ARISTOTLE 

It  is  clear  then  that  a  State  is  not  a  mere  society,  having  a 
common  place,  established  for  the  prevention  of  crime  and  for 
the  sake  of  exchange.  These  are  conditions  without  which  a 
State  cannot  exist;  but  all  of  them  together  do  not  constitute 
a  State,  which  is  a  community  of  well-being  in  families  and 
aggregations  of  families,  for  the  sake  of  a  perfect  and  self- 
sufficing  life.  Such  a  community  can  only  be  established  among 
those  who  live  in  the  same  place  and  intermarry.  Hence  arise 
in  cities  family  connections,  brotherhoods,  common  sacrifices, 
amusements  which  draw  men  together.  They  are  created  by 
friendship,  for  friendship  is  the  motive  of  society.  The  end 
is  the  good  life,  and  these  are  the  means  towards  it.  And  the 
State  is  the  union  of  families  and  villages  having  for  an  end 
a  perfect  and  self-sufficing  life,  by  which  we  mean  a  happy 
and  honorable  life./ 

Our  conclusion,  then,  is  that  political  society  exists  for  the 
sake  of  noble  actions,  and  not  of  mere  companionship.  And 
they  who  contribute  most  to  such  a  society  have  a  greater 
share  in  it  than  those  who  have  the  same  or  a  greater  freedom 
or  nobility  of  birth  but  are  inferior  to  them  in  political  virtue ; 
or  than  those  who  exceed  them  In  wealth  but  are  surpassed 
by  them  in  virtue. 

From  what  has  been  said  it  will  be  clearly  seen  that  all  the 
partisans  of  different  forms  of  government  speak  of  a  part 
of  justice  only. 

There  is  also  a  doubt  as  to  what  is  to  be  the  supreme  power 
in  the  State: — Is  it  the  multitude?  Or  the  wealthy?  Or  the 
good?  Or  the  one  best  man?  Or  a  tyrant?  Any  of  these 
alternatives  seems  to  involve  disagreeable  consequences.  If 
the  poor,  for  example,  because  they  are  more  in  number,  divide 
among  themselves  the  property  of  the  rich — is  not  this  unjust? 
No,  by  heaven  (will  be  the  reply),  for  the  lawful  authority 
[i.e.  the  people]  willed  it.  But  if  this  is  not  injustice,  pray 
what  is?  Again,  when  [in  the  first  division]  all  has  been 
taken,  and  the  majority  divide  anew  the  property  of  the 
minority,  is  it  not  evident,  if  this  goes  on,  that  they  will  ruin 
the  State?  Yet  surely,  virtue  is  not  the  ruin  of  those  who 
possess  her,  nor  is  justice  destructive  of  a  State ;  >«  and  there- 
fore this  law  of  confiscation  clearly  cannot  be  just.  If  it 
were,  all  the  acts  of  a  tyrant  must  of  necessity  be  just;    for 

I N.  Eth.  i.  7,  §  6.  wt  Cp.  Plato  Rep.  i.,  351,  352. 


THE  POLITICS  69 

he  only  coerces  other  men  by  superior  power,  just  as  the  multi- 
tude coerce  the  rich.  But  is  it  just  then  that  the  few  and  the 
wealthy  should  be  the  rulers?  And  what  if  they,  in  like 
manner,  rob  and  plunder  the  people — is  this  just?  If  so,  the 
other  case  [i.e.  the  case  of  the  majority  plundering  the  minor- 
ity] will  likewise  be  just.  But  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  all 
these  things  are  wrong  and  unjust. 

Then  ought  the  good  to  rule  and  have  supreme  power?  But 
in  that  case  everybody  else,  being  excluded  from  power,  will 
be  dishonored.  For  the  offices  of  a  State  are  posts  of  honor; 
and  if  one  set  of  men  always  hold  them,  the  rest  must  be  de- 
prived of  them.  Then  will  it  be  well  that  the  one  best  man 
should  rule  ?  Nay,  that  is  still  more  oligarchical,  for  the  num- 
ber of  those  who  are  dishonored  is  thereby  increased.  Some 
one  may  say  that  it  is  bad  for  a  man,  subject  as  he  is  to  all  the 
accidents  of  human  passion,  to  have  the  supreme  power,  rather 
than  the  law.  But  what  if  the  law  itself  be  democratical  or  oli- 
garchical, how  will  that  help  us  out  of  our  difficulties?  Not 
at  all ;  the  same  consequences  will  follow. 

Most  of  these  questions  may  be  reserved  for  another  oc- 
casion. The  principle  that  the  multitude  ought  to  be  supreme 
rather  than  the  few  best  is  capable  of  a  satisfactory  explanation, 
and,  though  not  free  from  difficulty,  yet  seems  to  contain  an 
element  of  truth.  For  the  many,  of  whom  each  individual  is 
but  an  ordinary  person,  when  they  meet  together  may  very 
likely  be  better  than  the  few  good,  if  regarded  not  individu- 
ally but  collectively,  just  as  a  feast  to  which  many  contribute  is 
better  than  a  dinner  provided  out  of  a  single  purse.  For  each 
individual  among  the  many  has  a  share  of  virtue  and  prudence, 
and  when  they  meet  together  they  become  in  a  manner  one  man, 
who  has  many  feet,  and  hands,  and  senses ;  that  is  a  figure 
of  their  mind  and  disposition.  Hence  the  many  are  better 
judges  than  a  single  man  of  music  and  poetry ;  for  some  under- 
stand one  part,  and  some  another,  and  among  them,  they 
understand  the  whole.  There  is  a  similar  combination  of  quali- 
ties in  good  men,  w^ho  differ  from  any  individual  of  the  many, 
as  the  beautiful  are  said  to  differ  from  those  who  are  not 
beautiful,  and  works  of  art  from  realities,  because  in  them  the 
scattered  elements  are  combined,  although,  if  taken  separately, 
the  eye  of  one  person  or  some  other  feature  in  another  person 
would  be  fairer  than  in  the  picture.     Whether  this  principle 


70 


ARISTOTLE 


can  apply  to  every  democracy,  and  to  all  bodies  of  men,  is  not 
clear.  Or  rather,  by  heaven,  in  some  cases  it  is  impossible  of 
application ;  for  the  argument  would  equally  hold  about  brutes ; 
and  wherein,  it  will  be  asked,  do  some  men  differ  from  brutes? 
But  there  may  be  bodies  of  men  about  whom  our  statement 
is  nevertheless  true.  And  if  so,  the  difficulty  which  has  been 
already  raised,  and  also  another  which  is  akin  to  it — viz.,  what 
power  should  be  assigned  to  the  mass  of  freemen  and  citizens, 
who  are  not  rich  and  have  no  personal  merit — are  both  solved. 
There  is  still  a  danger  in  allowing  them  to  share  the  great 
offices  of  State,  for  their  folly  will  lead  them  into  error,  and 
their  dishonesty  into  crime.  But  there  is  a  danger  also  in  not 
letting  them  share,  for  a  State  in  which  many  poor  men  are 
excluded  from  office  will  necessarily  be  full  of  enemies.  The 
only  way  of  escape  is  to  assign  to  them  some  deliberative  and 
judicial  functions.  For  this  reason  Solon  and  certain  other 
legislators  give  them  the  power  of  electing  to  offices,  and  of 
calling  the  magistrates  to  account,  but  they  do  not  allow  them 
to  hold  office  single.  When  they  meet  together  their  perceptions 
are  quite  good  enough,  and  combined  with  the  better  class  they 
are  useful  to  the  State  (just  as  impure  food  when  mixed  with 
what  is  pure  sometimes  makes  the  entire  mass  more  whole- 
some than  a  small  quantity  of  the  pure  would  be),  but  each 
individual,  left  to  himself,  forms  an  imperfect  judgment.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  popular  form  of  government  involves  cer- 
tain difficulties.  In  the  first  place,  it  might  be  objected  that 
he  who  can  judge  of  the  healing  of  the  sick  man  would  be  one 
who  could  himself  heal  his  disease,  and  make  him  whole — 
that  is,  in  other  words,  the  physician ;  and  so  in  all  professions 
and  arts.  As,  then,  the  physician  ought  to  be  called  to  account 
by  physicians,  so  ought  men  in  general  to  be  called  to  account 
by  their  peers.  But  physicians  are  of  three  kinds : — there  is  the 
apothecary,  and  there  is  the  physician  of  the  higher  class,  and 
thirdly  the  intelligent  man  who  has  studied  the  art:  in  all 
arts  there  is  such  a  class ;  and  we  attribute  the  power  of  judg- 
ing to  them  quite  as  much  as  to  professors  of  the  art.  Now, 
does  not  the  same  principle  apply  to  elections?  For  a  right 
election  can  only  be  made  by  those  who  have  knowledge ;  a 
geometrician,  for  example,  will  choose  rightly  in  matters  of 
geometry,  or  a  pilot  in  matters  of  steering ;  and,  even  if  there 
be  some  occupations  and  arts  with  which  private  persons  are 


THE  POLITICS  91 

familiar,  they  certainly  cannot  judge  better  than  those  who 
know.  So  that,  according  to  this  argument,  neither  the  elec- 
tion of  magistrates,  nor  the  calling  of  them  to  account,  should 
be  intrusted  to  the  many.  Yet  possibly  these  objections  are 
to  a  great  extent  met  by  our  old  answer,  that  if  the  people 
are  not  utterly  degraded,  although  individually  they  may  be 
worse  judges  than  those  who  have  special  knowledge — as  a 
body  they  are  as  good  or  better.  Moreover,  there  are  some 
artists  whose  works  are  judged  of  solely,  or  in  the  best  manner, 
not  by  themselves,  but  by  those  who  do  not  possess  the  art; 
for  example,  the  knowledge  of  the  house  is  not  limited  to  the 
builder  only;  the  user,  or,  in  other  words,  the  master,  of  the 
house  will  even  be  a  better  judge  than  the  builder,  just  as 
the  pilot  will  judge  better  of  a  rudder  than  the  carpenter,  and 
the  guest  will  judge  better  of  a  feast  than  the  cook. 

This  difficulty  seems  now  to  be  sufficiently  answered,  but 
there  is  another  akin  to  it.  That  inferior  persons  should  have 
authority  in  greater  matters  than  the  good  would  appear  to 
be  a  strange  thing,  yet  the  election  and  calling  to  account  of 
the  magistrates  is  the  greatest  of  all.  And  these,  as  I  was  say- 
ing, are  functions  which  in  some  States  are  assigned  to  the 
people,  for  the  assembly  is  supreme  in  all  such  matters.  Yet 
persons  of  any  age,  and  having  but  a  small  property  qualifica- 
tion, sit  in  the  Assembly  and  deliberate  and  judge,  although 
for  the  great  officers  of  State,  such  as  controllers  and  generals, 
a  high  qualification  is  required.  This  difficulty  may  be  solved 
in  the  same  manner  as  the  preceding,  and  the  present  practice 
of  democracies  may  be  really  defensible.  For  the  power  does 
not  reside  in  the  dicast,  or  Senator,  or  ecclesiast,  but  in  the 
court  and  the  Senate,  and  the  Assembly,  of  which  individual 
Senators,  or  ecclesiasts,  or  dicasts,  are  only  parts  or  members. 
And  for  this  reason  the  many  may  claim  to  have  a  higher 
authority  than  the  few ;  for  the  people,  and  the  Senate,  and  the 
courts  consist  of  many  persons,  and  their  property  collectively 
is  greater  than  the  property  of  one  or  of  a  few  individuals 
holding  great  offices.    But  enough  of  this. 

The  discussion  of  the  first  question  shows  nothing  so  clearly 
as  that  laws,  when  good,  should  be  supreme;  and  that  the 
magistrate  or  magistrates  should  regulate  those  matters  only 
on  which  the  laws  are  unable  to  speak  with  precision  owing 
to  the  difficulty  of  any  general  principle  embracing  all  particu- 


72 


ARISTOTLE 


lars.w  But  what  are  good  laws  has  not  yet  been  dearly  ex- 
plained ;  the  old  difficulty  remains.  The  goodness  or  badness, 
justice  or  injustice,  of  laws  is  of  necessity  relative  to  the 
constitutions  of  States.  But  if  so,  true  forms  of  government 
will  of  necessity  have  just  laws,  and  perverted  forms  of  gov- 
ernment will  have  unjust  laws. 

In  all  sciences  and  arts  the  end  is  a  good,  and  especially 
and  above  all  in  the  highest  of  all  o — this  is  the  political  science 
of  which  the  good  is  justice,  in  other  words,  the  common  in- 
terest. All  men  think  justice  to  be  a  sort  of  equality;  and 
to  a  certain  extent  they  agree  in  the  philosophical  distinctions 
which  have  been  laid  down  by  us  about  ethics./'  For  they 
admit  that  justice  is  a  thing  having  relation  to  persons,  and 
that  equals  ought  to  have  equality.  But  there  still  remains  a 
question;  equality  or  inequality  of  what?  here  is  a  difficulty 
which  the  political  philosopher  has  to  resolve.  For  very  likely 
some  persons  will  say  that  offices  of  State  ought  to  be  un- 
equally distributed  according  to  superior  excellence,  in  what- 
ever respect,  of  the  citizen,  although  there  is  no  other  diflfer- 
ence  between  him  and  the  rest  of  the  community;  for  that 
those  who  differ  in  any  one  respect  have  different  rights  and 
claims.  But,  surely,  if  this  is  true,  the  complexion  or  height 
of  a  man,  or  any  other  advantage,  will  be  a  reason  for  his 
obtaining  a  greater  share  of  political  rights.  The  error  here 
lies  upon  the  surface,  and  may  be  illustrated  from  the  other 
arts  and  sciences.  When  a  number  of  flute-players  are  equal 
in  their  art,  there  is  no  reason  why  those  of  them  who  are 
better  born  should  have  better  flutes  given  to  them ;  for  they 
will  not  play  any  better  on  the  flute,  and  the  superior  instru- 
ment should  be  reserved  for  him  who  is  the  superior  artist.  If 
what  I  am  saying  is  still  obscure,  it  will  be  made  celarer  as  we 
proceed.  For  if  there  were  a  superior  flute-player  who  was 
far  inferior  in  birth  and  beauty,  although  either  of  these  may 
be  a  greater  good  than  the  art  of  flute-playing,  and  persons 
gifted  with  these  qualities  may  excel  the  flute-player  in  a 
greater  ratio  than  he  excels  them  in  his  art,  still  he  ought  to 
have  the  best  flutes  given  to  him,  unless  the  advantages  of 
wealth  and  birth  contribute  to  excellence  in  flute-playing,  which 
they  do  not.  Moreover  upon  this  principle  any  good  may  be 
compared  with  any  other.     For  if  a  given  height,  then  height 

n  Cp.  N.  Eth.  V.  lo,  §  4.         o  N.  Eth.  i.  i,  5  i.         p  Cp.  N.  Eth.  v-  2. 


THE  POLITICS  •  73 

in  general  may  be  measured  either  against  height  or  against 
freedom.  Thus  if  A  excels  in  height  more  than  B  in  virtue, 
and  height  in  general  is  more  excellent  than  virtue,  all  things 
will  be  commensurable  [which  is  absurd]  ;  for  if  a  certain 
magnitude  is  greater  than  some  other,  it  is  clear  that  some 
other  will  be  equal.  But  since  no  such  comparison  can  be 
made,  it  is  evident  that  there  is  good  reason  why  in  politics 
men  do  not  ground  their  claim  to  office  on  every  sort  of  in- 
equality any  more  than  in  the  arts.  For  if  some  be  slow,  and 
others  swift,  that  is  no  reason  why  the  one  should  have  little 
and  the  others  much;  it  is  in  gymnastic  contests  that  such 
excellence  is  rewarded.  Whereas  the  rival  claims  of  candi- 
dates for  office  can  only  be  based  on  the  possession  of  ele- 
ments which  enter  into  the  composition  of  a  State  [such  as 
wealth,  virtue,  etc.].  And  therefore  the  noble,  or  free-born, 
or  rich,  may  with  good  reason  claim  office ;  for  holders  of 
offices  must  be  freemen  and  taxpayers:  a  State  can  be  no 
more  composed  entirely  of  poor  men  than  entirely  of  slaves. 
But  if  wealth  and  freedom  are  necessary  elements,  justice 
and  valor  are  equally  so;  for  without  the  former  a  State 
cannot  exist  at  all,  without  the  latter  not  well. 

If  the  existence  of  the  State  is  alone  to  be  considered,  then 
it  would  seem  that  all,  or  some  at  least,  of  these  claims  are 
just ;  but,  if  we  take  into  account  a  good  life,  as  I  have  already 
said,  education  and  virtue  have  superior  claims.  As,  however, 
those  who  are  equal  in  one  thing  ought  not  to  be  equal  in  all, 
nor  those  who  are  unequal  in  one  thing  to  be  unequal  in  all, 
it  is  certain  that  all  forms  of  government  which  rest  on  either 
of  these  principles  are  perversions.  All  men  have  a  claim  in 
a  certain  sense,  as  I  have  already  admitted,  but  they  have  not 
an  absolute  claim.  The  rich  claim  because  they  have  a  greater 
share  in  the  land,  and  land  is  the  common  element  of  the  State ; 
also  they  are  generally  more  trustworthy  in  contracts.  The 
free  claim  under  the  same  title  as  the  noble ;  for  they  are 
nearly  akin.  And  the  noble  are  citizens  in  a  truer  sense  than 
the  ignoble,  since  good  birth  is  always  valued  in  a  man's  own 
home  and  country.  Another  reason  is,  that  those  who  are 
sprung  from  better  ancestors  are  likely  to  be  better  men,  for 
nobility  is  excellence  of  race.  Virtue,  too,  may  be  truly  said 
to  have  a  claim,  for  justice  has  been  acknowledged  by  us  to 
be  a  social  virtue,  and  it  implies  all  others.?  Again,  the  many 
g  Cp.  N.  Eth.  V.  I,  §  15. 


74  ARISTOTLE 

urge  their  claim  against  the  few ;  for,  when  taken  collectively, 
and  compared  with  the  few,  they  are  stronger  and  richer  and 
better.  But,  what  if  the  good,  the  rich,  the  noble,  and  the 
other  classes  who  make  up  a  State,  are  all  living  together  in 
the  same  city,  will  there,  or  will  there  not,  be  any  doubt  who 
shall  rule? — No  doubt  at  all  in  determining  who  ought  to  rule 
in  each  of  the  above-mentioned  forms  of  government.  For 
States  are  characterized  by  differences  in  their  governing 
bodies — one  of  them  has  a  government  of  the  rich,  another 
of  the  virtuous,  and  so  on.  But  a  difficulty  arises  when  all 
these  elements  coexist.  How  are  we  to  decide?  Suppose  the 
virtuous  to  be  very  few  in  number;  may  we  consider  their 
numbers  in  relation  to  their  duties,  and  ask  whether  they  are 
enough  to  administer  a  State,  or  must  they  be  so  many  as  will 
make  up  a  State?  Objections  may  be  urged  against  all  the 
aspirants  to  political  power.  For  those  who  found  their  claims 
on  wealth  or  family  have  no  basis  of  justice ;  on  this  principle, 
if  any  one  person  were  richer  than  all  the  rest,  it  is  clear 
that  he  ought  to  be  the  ruler  of  them.  In  like  manner  he  who 
is  very  distinguished  by  his  birth  ought  to  have  the  superiority 
over  all  those  who  claim  on  the  ground  that  they  are  freeborn. 
In  an  aristocracy,  or  government  of  the  best,  a  like  difficulty 
occurs  about  virtue ;  for  if  one  citizen  be  better  than  the  other 
members  of  the  government,  however  good  they  may  be,  he 
too,  upon  the  same  principle  of  justice,  should  rule  over  them. 
And  if  the  people  are  to  be  supreme  because  they  are  stronger 
than  the  few,  then  if  one  man,  or  more  than  one,  but  not  a 
majority,  is  stronger  than  the  many,  they  ought  to  rule,  and 
not  the  many. 

All  these  considerations  appear  to  show  that  none  of  the 
principles  on  which  men  claim  to  rule,  and  hold  all  other 
men  in  subjection  to  them,  are  strictly  right.  To  those  who 
claim  to  be  masters  of  the  State  on  the  ground  of  their  virtue 
or  their  wealth,  the  many  might  fairly  answer  that  they  them- 
selves are  often  better  and  richer  than  the  few — I  do  not  say 
individually,  but  collectively.  And  another  ingenious  objec- 
tion which  is  sometimes  put  forward  may  be  met  in  a  similar 
manner.  Some  persons  doubt  whether  the  legislator  who  de-* 
sires  to  make  the  justest  laws  ought  to  legislate  with  a  view 
to  the  good  of  the  higher  classes  or  of  the  many,  when  the 
case  which  we  have  mentioned  occurs  [i.e.  when  all  the  ele- 


THE  POLITICS  75 

jn^nts  coexist].  Now  what  is  just  or  right  is  to  be  interpreted 
in  the  sense  of  "  what  is  equal  " ;  and  that  which  is  right  in 
the  sense  of  being  equal  is  to  be  considered  with  reference  to 
the  advantage  of  the  State,  and  the  common  good  of  the  citi- 
zens. And  a  citizen  is  one  who  shares  in  governing  and  being 
governed.  He  differs  under  different  forms  of  government, 
but  in  the  best  State  he  is  one  who  is  able  and  willing  to  be 
governed  and  to  govern  with  a  view  to  the  life  of  virtue. 

If,  however,  there  be  some  one  person,  or  more  than  one, 
although  not  enough  to  make  up  the  full  complement  of  a 
State,  whose  virtue  is  so  pre-eminent  that  the  virtues  or  the 
political  power  of  all  the  rest  admit  of  no  comparison  with 
his  or  theirs,  he  or  they  can  be  no  longer  regarded  as  part  of 
a  State;  for  justice  will  not  be  done  to  the  superior,  if  he  is 
reckoned  only  as  the  equal  of  those  who  are  so  far  inferior  to 
him  in  virtue  and  in  political  power.  Such  a  one  may  truly 
be  deemed  a  god  among  men.  Hence  we  see  that  legislation 
is  necessarily  concerned  only  with  those  who  are  equal  in  birth 
and  in  power;  and  that  for  men  of  pre-eminent  virtue  there 
is  no  law — they  are  themselves  a  law.  Anyone  would  be  ridicu- 
lous who  attempted  to  make  laws  for  them :  they  would  prob- 
ably retort  what,  in  the  fable  of  Antisthenes,  the  lions  said  to 
the  hares  ["where  are  your  claws?"],  when  in  the  council  of 
the  beasts  the  latter  began  haranguing  and  claiming  equality 
for  all.  And  for  this  reason  democratic  States  have  instituted 
ostracism ;  equality  is  above  all  things  their  aim,  and  there- 
fore they  ostracise  and  banish  from  the  city  for  a  time  those 
who  seem  to  predominate  too  much  through  their  wealth,  or 
the  number  of  their  friends,  or  through  any  other  political  in- 
fluence. Mythology  tells  us  that  the  Argonauts  left  Heracles 
behind  for  a  similar  reason ;  the  ship  Argo  would  not  take  him 
because  she  feared  that  he  would  have  been  too  much  for  the 
rest  of  the  crew.  Wherefore  those  who  denounce  tyranny  and 
blame  the  counsel  which  Periander  gave  to  Thrasybulus  cannot 
be  held  altogether  just  in  their  censure.  The  story  is  that 
Periander,  when  the  herald  was  sent  to  ask  counsel  of  him, 
said  nothing,  but  only  cut  off  the  tallest  ears  of  corn  till  he 
had  brought  the  field  to  a  level.  The  herald  did  not  know  the 
meaning  of  the  action,  but  came  and  reported  what  he  had 
seen  to  Thrasybulus,  who  understood  that  he  was  to  cut  off 
the  principal  men  in  the  State ;   and  this  is  a  policy  not  only 


76  ARISTOTLE 

expedient  for  tyrants  or  in  practice  confined  to  them,  but 
equally  necessary  in  oligarchies  and  democracies.  Ostracism 
is  a  measure  of  the  same  kind,  which  acts  by  disabling  and 
banishing  the  most  prominent  citizens.  Great  powers  do  the 
same  to  whole  cities  and  nations,  as  the  Athenians  did  to  the 
Samians,  Chians,  and  Lesbians;  no  sooner  had  they  obtained 
a  firm  grasp  of  the  empire,  than  they  humbled  their  allies 
contrary  to  treaty ;  and  the  Persian  king  has  repeatedly  crushed 
the  Medes,  Babylonians,  and  other  nations  when  their  spirit 
has  been  stirred  by  the  recollection  of  their  former  greatness. 
The  problem  is  a  universal  one,  and  equally  concerns  all 
forms  of  government,  true  as  well  as  false ;  for,  although  per- 
verted forms  with  a  view  to  their  own  interests  may  adopt 
this  policy,  those  which  seek  the  common  interest  do  so  like- 
wise. The  same  thing  may  be  observed  in  the  arts  and  sciences ; 
for  the  painter  will  not  allow  the  figure  to  have  a  foot  which, 
however  beautiful,  is  not  in  proportion,  nor  will  the  ship- 
builder allow  the  stern  or  any  other  part  of  the  vessel  to  be 
unduly  large,  any  more  than  the  chorus-master  will  allow  any- 
one who  sings  louder  or  better  than  all  the  rest  to  sing  in  the 
choir.  Monarchs,  too,  may  practise  compulsion  and  still  live 
in  harmony  with  their  cities,  if  their  government  is  for  the 
interest  of  the  State.  Hence  where  there  is  an  acknowledged 
superiority  the  argument  in  favor  of  ostracism  is  based  upon 
a  kind  of  political  justice.  It  would  certainly  be  better  that 
the  legislator  should  from  the  first  so  order  his  State  as  to  have 
no  need  of  such  a  remedy.  But  if  the  need  arises,  the  next 
best  thing  is  that  he  should  endeavor  to  correct  the  evil  by  this 
or  some  similar  measure.  The  principle,  however,  has  not  been 
fairly  applied  in  States ;  for,  instead  of  looking  to  the  public 
good,  they  have  used  ostracism  for  factious  purposes.  It  is 
true  that  under  perverted  forms  of  government,  and  from  their 
special  point  of  view,  such  a  measure  is  just  and  expedient, 
but  it  is  also  clear  that  it  is  not  absolutely  just.  In  the  per- 
fect State  there  would  be  great  doubts  about  the  use  of  it,  not 
when  applied  to  excess  in  strength,  wealth,  popularity,  or  the 
like,  but  when  used  against  someone  who  is  pre-eminent  in 
virtue — what  is  to  be  done  with  him?  Mankind  will  not  say 
that  such  a  one  is  to  be  expelled  and  exiled ;  on  the  other 
hand,  he  ought  not  to  be  a  subject — that  would  be  as  if  in  the 
division  of  the  empire  of  the  gods  the  other  gods   should 


THE  POLITICS  77 

claim  to  rule  over  Zeus.  The  only  alternative  is  that  all  should 
joyfully  obey  such  a  ruler,  according  to  what  seems  to  be  the 
order  of  nature,  and  that  men  like  him  should  be  kings  in 
their  State  for  life. 

The  preceding  discussion,  by  a  natural  transition,  leads  to 
the  consideration  of  royalty,  which  we  admit  to  be  one  of  the 
true  forms  of  government.  Let  us  see  whether  in  order  to 
be  well  governed  a  State  or  country  should  be  under  the  rule 
of  a  king  or  under  some  other  form  of  government;  and 
whether  monarchy,  although  good  for  some,  may  not  be  bad 
for  others.  But  first  we  must  determine  whether  there  is  one 
species  of  royalty  or  many.  It  is  easy  to  see  that  there  are 
many,  and  that  the  manner  of  government  is  not  the  same  in 
all  of  them. 

Of  royalties  according  to  law,  the  Lacedaemonian  is  thought 
to  answer  best  to  the  true  pattern,  but  there  the  royal  power 
is  not  absolute  except  when  the  kings  go  on  an  expedition, 
and  then  they  take  the  command.  Matters  of  religion  are 
likewise  committed  to  them.  The  kingly  office  is  in  truth  a 
kind  of  generalship,  irresponsible  and  perpetual.  The  King 
has  not  the  power  of  life  and  death,  except  when  upon  a 
campaign  and  in  the  field ;  after  the  manner  of  the  ancients 
which  is  described  in  Homer.  For  Agamemnon  is  patient 
when  he  is  attacked  in  the  Assembly,  but  when  the  army  goes 
out  to  battle  he  has  the  power  even  of  life  and  death.  Does 
he  not  say  ? — 

"  When  I  find  a  man  skulking  apart  from  the  battle,  nothing 
shall  save  him  from  the  dogs  and  vultures,  for  in  my  hands 
is  death.'V 

This,  then,  is  one  form  of  royalty — a  generalship  for  life: 
and  of  such  royalties  some  are  hereditary  and  others  elective. 

(2)  There  is  another  sort  of  monarchy  not  uncommon 
among  the  barbarians,  which  nearly  resembles  tyranny.  But 
even  this  is  legal  and  hereditary.  For  barbarians,  being  more 
servile  in  character  than  Hellenes,  and  Asiatics  than  Euro- 
peans, do  not  rebel  against  a  despotic  government.  Such 
royalties  have  the  nature  of  tyrannies  because  the  people  are 
by  nature  slaves ;  but  there  is  no  danger  of  their  being  over- 
thrown, for  they  are  hereditary  and  legal.  Wherefore  also 
their  guards  are  such  as  a  king  and  not  such  a  tyrant  would 

r  II.  ii.  391-393- 


•jS  ARISTOTLE 

employ,  that  is  to  say,  they  are  composed  of  citizens,  whereas 
the  guards  of  tyrants  are  mercenaries.  For  kings  rule  accord- 
ing to  law  over  voluntary  subjects,  but  tyrants  over  involun- 
tary; and  the  one  are  guarded  by  their  fellow-citizens,  the 
others  are  guarded  against  them. 

These  are  two  forms  of  monarchy,  and  there  was  a  third 
(3)  which  existed  in  ancient  Hellas,  called  an  ccsymnetia  or 
dictatorship.  This  may  be  defined  generally  as  an  elective 
tyranny,  which,  like  the  barbarian  monarchy,  is  legal,  but  differs 
from  it  in  not  being  hereditary.  Sometimes  the  office  is  held 
for  life,  sometimes  for  a  term  of  years,  or  until  certain  duties 
have  been  performed.  For  example,  the  Mitylena^ans  elected 
Pittacus  leader  against  the  exiles,  who  were  headed  by  Anti- 
menides  and  Alcaeus  the  poet.  And  Alcaeus  himself  says  in 
one  of  his  irregular  songs,-^  "  They  chose  Pittacus  tyrant,"  and 
he  reproaches  his  fellow-citizens  for  "  having  made  the  low- 
born Pittacus  tyrant  of  the  spiritless  and  ill-fated  city,  with 
one  voice  shouting  his  praises." 

These  forms  of  government  have  always  had  the  character 
of  despotism,  because  they  possess  tyrannical  power,  but  inas- 
much as  they  are  elective  and  acquiesced  in  by  their  subjects, 
they  are  kingly. 

(4)  There  is  a  fourth  species  of  kingly  rule — that  of  the 
heroic  times — which  was  hereditary  and  legal,  and  was  exer- 
cised over  willing  subjects.  For  the  first  chiefs  were  bene- 
factors of  the  people  in  arts  or  arms ;  they  either  gathered 
them  into  a  community,  or  procured  land  for  them ;  and  thus 
they  became  kings  of  voluntary  subjects,  and  their  power  was 
inherited  by  their  descendants.  They  took  the  command  in 
war  and  presided  over  the  sacrifices,  except  those  which  re- 
quired a  priest.  They  also  decided  causes  either  with  or  with- 
out an  oath ;  and  when  they  swore,  the  form  of  the  oath  was 
the  stretching  out  of  their  sceptre.  In  ancient  times  their 
power  extended  to  all  things  whatsoever,  in  city  and  country, 
as  well  as  in  foreign  parts ;  but  at  a  later  date  they  relinquished 
several  of  these  privileges,  and  others  the  people  took  from 
them,  until  in  some  States  nothing  was  left  to  them  but  the 
sacrifices;  and  where  they  retained  more  of  the  reality  they 
had  only  the  right  of  leadership  in  war  beyond  the  border. 

These,  then,  are  the  four  kinds  of  royalty.  First  the  mon- 
s  Or,  "  banquet-odes." 


THE  POLITICS  79 

archy  of  the  heroic  ages;  this  was  exercised  over  voluntary 
subjects,  but  Hmited  to  certain  functions;  the  king  was  a 
general  and  a  judge,  and  had  the  control  of  religion.  The 
second  is  that  of  the  barbarians,  which  is  an  hereditary  des- 
potic government  in  accordance  with  law.  A  third  is  the 
power  of  the  so-called  cesymnete  or  dictator;  this  is  an  elec- 
tive tyranny.  The  fourth  is  the  Lacedaemonian,  which  is  in 
fact  a  generalship,  hereditary  and  perpettlal.  These  four  forms 
differ  from  one  another  in  the  manner  which  I  have  described. 

There  is  a  fifth  form  of  kingly  rule  in  which  one  has  the 
disposal  of  all,  just  as  each  tribe  or  each  State  has  the  disposal 
of  the  public  property ;  this  form  corresponds  to  the  control 
of  a  household.  For  as  household  management  is  the  kingly 
rule  of  a  house,  so  kingly  rule  is  the  household  management 
of  a  city,  or  of  a  nation,  or  of  many  nations. 

Of  these  forms  we  need  only  consider  two,  the  Lacedae- 
monian and  the  absolute  royalty;  for  most  of  the  others  lie 
in  a  region  between  them,  having  less  power  than  the  last,  and 
more  than  the  first.  Thus  the  inquiry  is  reduced  to  two  points : 
first,  is  it  advantageous  to  the  State  that  there  should  be  a 
perpetual  general,  and  if  so,  should  the  office  be  confined  to 
one  family,  or  open  to  the  citizens  in  turn?  Secondly,  is  it 
well  that  a  single  man  should  have  the  supreme  power  in  all 
things?  The  first  question  falls  under  the  head  of  laws  rather 
than  of  constitutions ;  for  perpetual  generalship  might  equally 
exist  under  any  form  of  government,  so  that  this  matter  may 
be  dismissed  for  the  present.  The  other  kind  of  royalty  is  a 
sort  of  constitution ;  this  we  have  now  to  consider,  and  briefly 
to  run  over  the  difficulties  involved  in  it.  We  will  begin 
by  inquiring  whether  it  is  more  advantageous  to  be  ruled  b)'^ 
the  best  man  or  by  the  best  laws.' 

The  advocates  of  royalty  maintain  that  the  laws  speak  only 
in  general  terms,  and  cannot  provide  for  circumstances ;  and 
that  for  any  science  to  abide  by  written  rules  is  absurd.  Even 
in  Egypt  the  physician  is  allowed  to  alter  his  treatment  after 
the  fourth  day,  but  if  sooner,  he  takes  the  risk.  Hence  it  is 
argued  that  a  government  acting  according  to  written  laws  is 
plainly  not  the  best.  Yet  surely  the  ruler  cannot  dispense 
with  the  general  principle  which  exists  in  law ;  and  he  is 
a  better  ruler  who  is  free  from  passion  than  he  who  is  pas- 
/  Cp.  Plato.  Polit.  pp.  293-295. 


8o  ARISTOTLE 

sionate.  Whereas  the  law  is  passionless,  passion  must  ever 
sway  the  heart  of  man. 

Yes,  some  one  will  answer,  but  then  on  the  other  hand  an 
individual  will  be  better  able  to  advise  in  particular  cases, 
[To  whom  we  in  turn  make  reply:]  There  must  be  a  legislator, 
whether  you  call  him  a  king  or  not,  and  laws  must  be  passed, 
but  these  laws  will  have  no  authority  when  they  miss  the  mark, 
though  in  all  other  cases  retaining  their  authority.  [Yet  a 
further  question  remains  behind :]  When  the  law  cannot  deter- 
mine a  point  at  all,  or  not  well,  should  the  one  best  man  or 
should  all  decide?  According  to  our  present  practice  assem- 
blies meet,  sit  in  judgment,  deliberate  and  decide,  and  their 
judgments  all  relate  to  individual  cases.  Now  any  member  of 
the  assembly,  taken  separately,  is  certainly  inferior  to  the  wise 
man.  But  the  State  is  made  up  of  many  individuals.  And  as 
a  feast  to  which  all  the  guests  contribute  is  better  than  a  ban- 
quet furnished  by  a  single  man,  so  a  multitude  is  a  better  judge 
of  many  things  than  any  individual. 

Again,  the  many  are  more  incorruptible  than  the  few ;  they 
are  like  the  greater  quantity  of  water  which  is  less  easily  cor- 
rupted than  a  little.  The  individual  is  liable  to  be  overcome  by 
anger  or  by  some  other  passion,  and  then  his  judgment  is  neces- 
sarily perverted ;  but  it  is  hardly  to  be  supposed  that  a  great 
number  of  persons  would  all  get  into  a  passion  and  go  wrong 
at  the  same  moment.  Let  us  assume  that  they  are  freemen, 
never  acting  in  violation  of  the  law,  but  filling  up  the  gaps 
which  the  law  is  obliged  to  leave.  Or,  if  such  virtue  is  scarcely 
attainable  by  the  multitude,  we  need  only  suppose  that  the 
majority  are  good  men  and  good  citizens,  and  ask  which  will 
be  the  more  incorruptible,  the  one  good  ruler,  or  the  many 
who  are  all  good?  Will  not  the  many?  But,  you  will  say, 
there  may  be  parties  among  them,  whereas  the  one  man  is 
not  divided  against  himself.  To  which  we  may  answer  that 
their  character  is  as  good  as  his.  If  we  call  the  rule  of  many 
men,  who  are  all  of  them  good,  aristocracy,  and  the  rule  of 
one  man  royalty,  then  aristocracy  will  be  better  for  States 
than  royalty,  whether  the  government  is  supported  by  force 
or  not,  provided  only  that  a  number  of  men  equal  in  virtue 
can  be  found. 

The  first  governments  were  kingships,  probably  for  this 
reason,  because  of  old,  when  cities  were  small,  men  of  eminent 


THE  POLITICS  8i 

virtue  were  few.  They  were  made  kings  because  they  were 
benefactors,  and  benefits  can  only  be  bestowed  by  good  men. 
But  when  many  persons  equal  in  merit  arose,  no  longer  en- 
during the  pre-eminence  of  one,  they  desired  to  have  a  com- 
monwealth, and  set  up  a  constitution.  The  ruling  class  soon 
deteriorated  and  enriched  themselves  out  of  the  public  treas- 
ury ;  riches  became  the  path  to  honor,  and  so  oligarchies 
naturally  grew  up.  These  passed  into  tyrannies  and  tyrannies 
into  democracies;  for  love  of  gain  in  the  ruling  classes  was 
always  tending  to  diminish  their  number,  and  so  to  strengthen 
the  masses,  who  in  the  end  set  upon  their  masters  and  estab- 
lished democracies.  Since  cities  have  increased  in  size,  no 
other  form  of  government  appears  to  be  any  longer  possible. 

Even  supposing  the  principle  to  be  maintained  that  kingly 
power  is  the  best  thing  for  States,  how  about  the  family  of 
the  King?  Are  his  children  to  succeed  him?  If  they  are  no 
better  than  anybody  else,  that  will  be  mischievous.  But  [says 
the  lover  of  royalty]  the  King  though  he  might,  will  not  hand 
on  his  power  to  his  children.  That,  however,  is  hardly  to  be 
expected,  and  is  too  much  to  ask  of  human  nature.  There  is 
also  a  difficulty  about  the  force  which  he  is  to  employ ;  should 
a  King  have  guards  about  him  by  whose  aid  he  may  be  able  to 
coerce  the  refractory?  but  if  not,  how  will  he  administer  his 
kingdom  ?  Even  if  he  be  the  lawful  sovereign  who  does  noth- 
ing arbitrarily  or  contrary  to  law,  still  he  must  have  some  force 
wherewith  to  maintain  the  law.  In  the  case  of  a  limited  mon- 
archy there  is  not  much  difficulty  in  answering  this  question ; 
the  king  must  have  such  force  as  will  be  more  than  a  match 
for  one  or  more  individuals,  but  not  so  great  as  that  of  the 
people.  The  ancients  observed  this  principle  when  they  gave 
the  guards  to  anyone  whom  they  appointed  dictator  or  tyrant. 
Thus,  when  Dionysius  asked  the  Syracusans  to  allow  him 
guards,  somebody  advised  that  they  should  give  him  only  a 
certain  number. 

At  this  place  in  the  discussion  naturally  follows  the  in- 
quiry respecting  the  King  who  acts  solely  according  to  his  own 
will ;  he  has  now  to  be  considered.  The  so-called  limited  mon- 
archy, or  kingship  according  to  law,  as  I  have  already  re- 
marked, is  not  a  distinct  form  of  government,  for  under  all 
governments,  as,  for  example,  in  a  democracy  or  aristocracy, 
there  may  be  a  general  holding  office  for  life,  and  one  person 
6 


82  ARISTOTLE 

is  often  made  supreme  over  the  administration  of  a  State.  A 
magistracy  of  this  kind  exists  at  Epidamnus,  and  also  at  Opus, 
but  in  the  latter  city  has  a  more  limited  power.  Now,  absolute 
monarchy,  or  the  arbitrary  rule  of  a  sovereign  over  all  the 
citizens,  in  a  city  which  consists  of  equals,  is  thought  by 
some  to  be  quite  contrary  to  nature;  it  is  argued  that  those 
who  are  by  nature  equals  must  have  the  same  natural  right 
and  worth,  and  that  for  unequals  to  have  an  equal  share,  or 
for  equals  to  have  an  unequal  share,  in  the  offices  of  state, 
is  as  bad  as  for  different  bodily  constitutions  to  have  the  same 
food  and  clothing  or  the  same  different.  Wherefore  it  is 
thought  to  be  just  that  among  equals  everyone  be  ruled  as 
well  as  rule,  and  that  all  should  have  their  turn.  We  thus 
arrive  at  law ;  for  an  order  of  succession  implies  law.  And 
the  rule  of  the  law  is  preferable  to  that  of  any  individual.  On 
the  same  principle,  even  if  it  be  better  for  certain  individuals 
to  govern,  they  should  be  made  only  guardians  and  ministers 
of  the  law.  For  magistrates  there  must  be — this  is  admitted ; 
but  then  men  say  that  to  give  authority  to  any  one  man  when 
all  are  equal  is  unjust.  There  may  indeed  be  cases  which  the 
law  seems  unable  to  determine,  but  in  such  cases  can  a  man? 
Nay,  it  will  be  replied,  the  law  trains  officers  for  this  express 
purpose,  and  appoints  them  to  determine  matters  which  are 
left  undecided  by  it  to  the  best  of  their  judgment.  Further 
it  permits  them  to  make  any  amendment  of  the  existing  laws 
which  experience  suggests.  [But  still  they  are  only  the  min- 
isters of  the  law.]  He  who  bids  the  law  rule,  may  be  deemed 
to  bid  God  and  Reason  alone  rule,  but  he  who  bids  man  rule 
adds  an  element  of  the  beast;  for  desire  is  a  wild  beast,  and 
passion  perverts  the  minds  of  rulers,  even  when  they  are  the 
best  of  men.  The  law  is  reason  unaffected  by  desire.  We 
are  told  that  a  patient  should  call  in  a  physician ;  he  will  not 
get  better  if  he  is  doctored  out  of  a  book.  But  the  parallel  of 
the  arts  is  clearly  not  in  point ;  for  the  physician  does  nothing 
contrary  to  reason  from  motives  of  friendship ;  he  only  cures 
a  patient  and  takes  a  fee ;  whereas  magistrates  do  many  things 
from  spite  and  partiality.  And,  indeed,  if  a  man  suspected 
the  physician  of  being  in  league  with  his  enemies  to  destroy 
him  for  a  bribe,  he  would  rather  have  recourse  to  the  book. 
Even  physicians  when  they  are  sick,  call  in  other  physicians, 
and  training-masters  when  they  are  in  training,  other  train- 


THE  POLITICS  83 

ing-masters,  as  if  they  could  not  judge  truly  about  their  own 
case  and  might  be  influenced  by  their  feelings.  Hence  it  is 
evident  that  in  seeking  for  justice  men  seek  for  the  mean  or 
neutral,"  and  the  law  is  the  mean.  Again,  customary  laws  have 
more  weight,  and  relate  to  more  important  matters,  than 
written  laws,  and  a  man  may  be  a  safer  ruler  than  the  written 
law,  but  not  safer  than  the  customary  law. 

Again,  it  is  by  no  means  easy  for  one  man  to  superintend 
many  things ;  he  will  have  to  appoint  a  number  of  subordinates, 
and  what  difference  does  it  make  whether  these  subordinates 
always  existed  or  were  appointed  by  him  because  he  needed 
them?  If,  as  I  said  before,  the  good  man  has  a  right  to  rule 
because  he  is  better,  then  two  good  men  are  better  than  one: 
this  is  the  old  saying — 

"two  going  together;"!^ 

and  the  prayer  of  Agamemnon — 

"  would  that  I  had  ten  such  counsellors  I  **to 

And  at  this  day  there  are  some  magistrates,  for  example 
judges,  who  have  authority  to  decide  matters  which  the  law 
is  unable  to  determine,  since  no  one  doubts  that  the  law  would 
command  and  decide  in  the  best  manner  whatever  it  could. 
But  some  things  can,  and  other  things  cannot,  be  compre- 
hended under  the  law,  and  this  is  the  origin  of  the  vexed 
question  whether  the  best  law  or  the  best  man  should  rule. 
For  matters  of  detail  about  which  men  deliberate  cannot  be 
included  in  legislation.  Nor  does  anyone  deny  that  the  de- 
cision of  such  matters  must  be  left  to  man,  but  it  is  argued 
that  there  should  be  many  judges,  and  not  one  only.  For  every 
ruler  who  has  been  trained  by  the  law  judges  well ;  and  it 
would  surely  seem  strange  that  a  person  should  see  better 
with  two  eyes,  or  hear  better  with  two  ears,  or  act  better  with 
two  hands  or  feet,  than  many  with  many ;  indeed,  it  is  already 
the  practice  of  kings  to  make  to  themselves  many  eyes  and  ears 
and  hands  and  feet.  For  they  make  colleagues  of  those  who 
are  the  friends  of  themselves  and  their  governments.  They 
must  be  friends  of  the  monarch  and  of  his  government;  if 
not  his  friends,  they  will  not  do  what  he  wants ;  but  friendship 
implies  likeness  and  equality ;  and,  therefore,  if  he  thinks  that 
u  Cp.  N.  Eth.  V.  4,  §  7.  V  II.  X.  224.  w  Ibid.  ii.  372. 


84  ARISTOTLE 

friends  ought  to  rule,  he  must  think  that  those  who  are  equal 
to  himself  and  like  himself  ought  to  rule.  These  are  the  princi- 
pal controversies  relating  to  monarchy. 

But  may  not  all  this  be  true  in  some  cases  and  not  in  others? 
for  there  is  a  natural  justice  and  expediency  in  the  relation 
of  a  master  to  his  servants,  or,  again,  of  a  King  to  his  sub- 
jects, as  also  in  the  relation  of  free  citizens  to  one  another; 
whereas  there  is  no  such  justice  or  expediency  in  a  tyranny, 
or  in  any  other  perverted  form  of  government,  which  comes 
into  being  contrary  to  nature.  Now,  from  wliat  has  been  said, 
it  is  manifest  that,  where  men  are  alike  and  equal,  it  is  neither 
expedient  nor  just  that  one  man  should  be  lord  of  all,  whether 
there  are  laws,  or  whether  there  are  no  laws,  but  he  himself 
is  in  the  place  of  law.  Neither  should  a  good  man  be  lord  over 
good  men,  or  a  bad  man  over  bad;  nor,  even  if  he  excels  i;i 
virtue,  should  he  have  a  right  to  rule,  unless  m  a  particular 
case,  which  I  have  already  mentioned,  and  to  which  I  will 
once  more  recur.  But  first  of  all,  I  must  determine  what 
natures  are  suited  for  royalties,  and  what  for  an  aristocracy, 
and  what  for  a  constitutional  government. 

A  people  who  are  by  nature  capable  of  producing  a  race 
superior  in  virtue  and  political  talent  are  fitted  for  kingly 
government;  and  a  people  submitting  to  be  ruled  as  freemen 
by  men  whose  virtue  renders  them  capable  of  political  com- 
mand are  adapted  for  an  aristocracy :  while  the  people  who 
are  suited  for  constitutional  freedom,  are  those  among  whom 
there  naturally  exists  a  warlike  multitude  able  to  rule  and  to 
obey  in  turn  by  a  law  which  gives  office  to  the  well-to-do  ac- 
cording to  their  desert.  But  when  a  Vvliole  family,  or  some 
individual,  happens  to  be  so  pre-eminent  in  virtue  as  to  sur- 
pass all  others,  then  it  is  just  that  they  should  be  the  royal 
family  and  supreme  over  all,  or  that  this  one  citizen  should 
be  king  of  the  whole  nation.  For,  as  I  said  before,  to  give 
them  authority  is  not  only  agreeable  to  that  ground  of  right 
which  the  founders  of  all  States,  whether  aristocratical,  or  oli- 
garchical, or  again  democratical,  are  accustomed  to  put  for- 
ward (for  these  all  recognize  the  claim  of  excellence,  although 
not  the  same  excellence)  ;  but  accords  with  the  principle  already 
laid  down.  For  it  would  not  be  right  to  kill,  or  ostracise,  or 
exile  such  a  person,  or  require  that  he  should  take  his  turn 
in  being  governed.     The  whole  is  naturally  superior  to  the 


THE  POLITICS  85 

part,  and  he  who  has  this  pre-eminence  is  in  the  relation  of 
a  whole  to  a  part.  But  if  so,  the  only  alternative  is  that  he 
should  have  the  supreme  power,  and  that  mankind  should  obey 
him,  not  in  turn,  but  always.  These  are  the  conclusions  at 
which  we  arrive  respecting  royalty  and  its  various  forms, 
and  this  is  the  answer  to  the  question,  whether  it  is  or  is  not 
advantageous  to  States,  and  to  whom,  and  how. 

We  maintain  that  the  true  forms  of  government  are  three, 
and  that  the  best  must  be  that  which  is  administered  by  the 
best,  and  in  which  there  is  one  man,  or  a  whole  family,  or 
many  persons,  excelling  in  virtue,  and  both  rulers  and  subjects 
are  fitted,  the  one  to  rule,  the  others  to  be  ruled,  in  such  a 
manner  as  to  attain  the  most  eligible  life.  We  showed  at  the 
commencement  of  our  inquiry  that  the  virtue  of  the  good 
man  is  necessarily  the  same  as  the  virtue  of  the  citizen  of 
the  perfect  State.  Clearly  then  in  the  same  manner,  and  by 
the  same  means  through  which  a  man  becomes  truly  good, 
he  will  frame  a  State  [which  will  be  truly  good]  whether 
aristocratical,  or  under  kingly  rule,  and  the  same  education 
and  the  same  habits  will  be  found  to  make  a  good  man  and  a 
good  statesman  and  King. 

Having  arrived  at  these  conclusions,  we  must  proceed  to 
speak  of  the  perfect  State,  and  describe  how  it  comes  into 
being  and  is  established. 


BOOK  IV 

IN  all  arts  and  sciences  which  embrace  the  whole  of  any 
subject,  and  are  not  restricted  to  a  part  only,  it  is  the 
province  of  a  single  art  or  science  to  consider  all  that 
appertains  to  a  single  subject.  For  example,  the  art  of  gym- 
nastic considers  not  only  the  suitableness  of  different  modes 
of  training  to  different  bodies  (2),  but  what  sort  is  absolutely 
the  best  (i);  (for  the  absolutely  best  must  suit  that  which 
is  by  nature  best  and  best  furnished  with  the  means  of  life), 
and  also  what  common  form  of  training  is  adapted  to  the  great 
majority  of  men  (4).  And  if  a  man  does  not  desire  the  best 
habit  of  body  or  the  greatest  skill  in  gymnastics,  which  might 
be  attained  by  him,  still  the  trainer  or  the  teacher  of  gymnastic 
should  be  able  to  impart  any  lower  degree  of  either  (3).  The 
same  principle  equally  holds  in  medicine  and  shipbuilding, 
and  the  making  of  clothes,  and  in  the  arts  generally. 

Hence  it  is  obvious  that  government  too  is  the  subject  of 
a  single  science,  which  has  to  consider  what  kind  of  govern- 
ment would  be  best  and  most  in  accordance  with  our  aspira- 
tions, if  there  were  no  external  impediment,  and  also  what 
kind  of  government  is  adapted  to  particular  States.  For  the 
best  is  often  unattainable,  and  therefore  the  true  legislator  and 
statesman  ought  to  be  acquainted,  not  only  with  ( i )  that  which 
is  best  in  the  abstract,  but  also  with  (2)  that  which  is  best 
relatively  to  circumstances.  We  should  be  able  further  to  say 
how  a  State  may  be  constiuted  under  any  given  conditions  (3)  ; 
both  how  it  is  originally  formed  and,  when  formed,  how  it 
may  be  longest  preserved;  the  supposed  State  being  so  far 
from  the  very  best  that  it  is  unprovided  even  with  the  con- 
ditions necessary  for  the  very  best ;  neither  is  it  the  best  under 
the  circumstances,  but  of  an  inferior  type. 

He  ought,  moreover,  to  know  (4)  the  form  of  government 
which  is  best  suited  to  States  in  general ;  for  political  writers, 
although  they  have  excellent  ideas,  are  often  unpractical.  We 
should  consider,  not  only  what  form  of  government  is  best, 

86 


THE  POLITICS  87 

but  also  what  is  possibl'e  and  what  is  easily  attainable  by  all. 
There  are  some  who  would  have  none  but  the  most  perfect; 
for  this  many  natural  advantages  are  required.  Others,  again, 
speak  of  a  more  attainable  form,  and,  although  they  reject 
the  constitution  under  which  they  are  living,  they  extol  some 
one  in  particular,  for  example  the  Lacedsemonian.  Any  change 
of  government  which  has  to  be  introduced  should  be  one  which 
men  will  be  both  willing  and  able  to  adopt,  since  there  is  quite 
as  much  trouble  in  the  reformation  of  an  old  constitution  as  in 
the  establishment  of  a  new  one,  just  as  to  unlearn  is  as  hard 
as  to  learn.  And  therefore,  in  addition  to  the  qualifications 
of  the  statesman  already  mentioned,  he  should  be  able  to  find 
remedies  for  the  defects  of  existing  constitutions.  This  he 
cannot  do  unless  he  knows  how  many  forms  of  a  government 
there  are.  It  is  often  supposed  that  there  is  only  one  kind  of 
democracy  and  one  of  oligarchy.  But  this  is  a  mistake ;  and, 
in  order  to  avoid  such  mistakes,  we  must  ascertain  what  dif- 
ferences there  are  in  the  constitutions  of  States,  and  in  how 
many  ways  they  are  combined.  The  same  political  insight 
will  enable  a  man  to  know  which  laws  are  the  best,  and  which 
are  suited  to  different  constitutions;  for  the  laws  are,  and 
ought  to  be,  relative  to  the  constitution,  and  not  the  constitu- 
tion to  the  laws.  A  constitution  is  the  organization  of  offices 
in  a  State,  and  determines  what  is  to  be  the  governing  body, 
and  what  is  the  end  of  each  community.  But  laws  are  not  to 
be  confounded  with  the  principles  of  the  constitution :  they 
are  the  rules  according  to  which  the  magistrates  should  ad- 
minister the  State,  and  proceed  against  offenders.  So  that  we 
must  know  the  number  and  varieties  of  the  several  forms  of 
government,  if  only  with  a  view  to  making  laws.  For  the 
same  laws  cannot  be  equally  suited  to  all  oligarchies  and  to 
all  democracies,  and  there  is  certainly  more  than  one  form 
both  of  democracy  and  of  oligarchy. 

In  our  original  discussion  a  about  governments  we  divided 
them  into  three  true  forms :  kingly  rule,  aristocracy,  and  con- 
stitutional government,  and  three  corresponding  perversions 
— tyranny,  oligarchy,  and  democracy.  Of  kingly  rule  and  of 
aristocracy  we  have  already  spoken,  for  the  inquiry  into  the 
perfect  State  is  the  same  thing  with  the  discussion  of  the  two 
forms  thus  named,  since  both  imply  a  principle  of  virtue  pro- 
a  N.  Eth.  viii.  10. 


88  ARISTOTLE 

vided  with  external  means.  We  have  already  determined  in 
what  aristocracy  and  kingly  rule  differ  from  one  another,  and 
when  the  latter  should  be  established.  In  what  follows  we 
have  to  describe  the  so-called  constitutional  government,  which 
bears  the  common  name  of  all  constitutions,  and  the  other 
forms,  tyranny,  oligarchy,  and  democracy. 

It  is  obvious  which  of  the  three  perversions  is  the  worst, 
and  which  is  the  next  in  badness.  That  which  is  the  perversion 
of  the  first  and  most  divine  is  necessarily  the  worst.  And  just 
as  a  royal  rule,  if  not  a  mere  name,  must  exist  by  virtue  of 
some  great  personal  superiority  in  the  king,  so  tyranny,  which 
is  the  worst  of  governments,  is  necessarily  the  farthest  re- 
moved from  a  well-constituted  form ;  oligarchy  is  a  little  bet- 
ter, but  a  long  way  from  aristocracy,  and  democracy  is  the 
most  tolerable  of  the  three. 

A  writer  b  who  preceded  me  has  already  made  these  dis- 
tinctions, but  his  point  of  view  is  not  the  same  as  mine.  For 
he  lays  down  the  principle  that  of  all  good  constitutions  (un- 
der  which  he  would  include  a  virtuous  oligarchy  and  the  like) 
democracy  is  the  worst,  but  the  best  of  bad  ones.  Whereas 
we  maintain  that  they  are  all  defective,  and  that  one  oligarchy 
is  not  to  be  accounted  better  than  another,  but  only  less  bad. 

Not  to  pursue  this  question  further  at  present,  let  us  begin  by 
determining  (i)  how  many  varieties  of  States  there  are  (since 
of  democracy  and  oligarchy  there  are  several)  ;  (2)  what  con- 
stitution is  the  most  generally  acceptable,  and  what  is  eligible 
in  the  next  degree  after  the  perfect  or  any  other  aristocratical 
and  well-constituted  form  of  government — if  any  other  there 
be — which  is  at  the  same  time  adapted  to  States  in  general ;  (3) 
of  the  other  forms  of  government  to  whom  is  each  suited.  For 
democracy  may  meet  the  needs  of  some  better  than  oligarchy, 
and  conversely.  In  the  next  place  (4)  we  have  to  consider  in 
what  manner  a  man  ought  to  proceed  who  desires  to  establish 
some  one  among  these  various  forms,  whether  of  democracy  or 
of  oligarchy ;  and  lastly,  (5)  having  briefly  discussed  these  sub- 
jects to  the  best  of  our  power,  we  will  endeavor  to  ascertain 
whence  arise  the  ruin  and  preservation  of  States,  both  gen- 
erally and  in  individual  cases,  and  to  what  causes  they  are  to  be 
attributed. 

The  reason  why  there  are  many  forms  of  government  is  that 

b  Plato,  Polit.   303  A. 


THE  POLITICS  89 

every  State  contains  many  elements.  In  the  first  place  we  see 
that  all  States  are  made  up  of  families,  and  in  the  multitude  of 
citizens  there  must  be  some  rich  and  some  poor,  and  some  in  a 
middle  condition ;  the  rich  are  heavy-armed,  and  the  poor  not. 
Of  the  common  people,  some  are  husbandmen,  and  some 
traders,  and  some  artisans.  There  are  also  among  the  notables 
differences  of  wealth  and  property — for  example,  in  the  number 
of  horses  which  they  keep,  for  they  cannot  afford  to  keep  them 
unless  they  are  rich.  And  therefore  in  old  times  the  cities 
whose  strength  lay  in  their  cavalry  were  oligarchies,  and  they 
used  cavalry  in  wars  against  their  neighbors ;  as  was  the  prac- 
tice of  the  Eretrians  and  Chalcidians,  and  also  of  the  Magne- 
sians  on  the  river  Maeander,  and  of  other  peoples  in  Asia.  Be- 
sides differences  of  wealth  there  are  differences  of  rank  and 
merit,  and  there  are  some  other  elements  which  were  mentioned 
by  us  when  in  treating  of  aristocracy  we  enumerated  the  es- 
sentials of  a  State.  Of  these  elements,  sometimes  all,  some- 
times the  lesser  and  sometimes  the  greater  number,  have  a 
share  in  the  government.  It  is  evident  then  that  there  must  be 
many  forms  of  government,  differing  in  kind,  since  the  parts 
of  which  they  are  composed  differ  from  each  other  in  kind. 
For  a  constitution  is  an  organization  of  offices  which  all  the 
citizens  distribute  among  themselves,  according  to  the  power 
which  different  classes  possess,  for  example  the  rich  or  the 
poor,  or  according  to  some  principle  of  compensation  which 
includes  both.  There  must  therefore  be  as  many  forms  of  gov- 
ernment as  there  are  modes  of  arranging  the  offices,  according 
to  the  superiorities  and  other  inequalities  of  the  different  parts 
of  the  State. 

There  are  generally  thought  to  be  two  principal  forms :  as 
men  say  of  the  winds  that  there  are  but  two — north  and  south, 
and  that  the  rest  of  them  are  only  variations  of  these,  so  of 
governments  there  are  said  to  be  only  two  forms — democracy 
and  oligarchy.  For  aristocracy  is  considered  to  be  a  kind  of 
oligarchy,  as  being  the  rule  of  a  few,  and  the  so-called  con- 
stitutional government  to  be  really  a  democracy,  just  as  among 
the  winds  we  make  the  west  a  variation  of  the  north,  and  the 
east  of  the  south  wind.  Similarly  of  harmonies  there  are  said 
to  be  two  kinds,  the  Dorian  and  the  Phrygian ;  the  other  ar- 
rangements of  the  scale  are  comprehended  under  one  of  these 
two.    About  forms  of  government  this  is  a  very  favorite  notion. 


9«  ARISTOTLE 

But  in  either  case  the  better  and  more  exact  way  is  to  distin- 
guish, as  I  have  done,  the  one  or  two  which  are  true  forms, 
and  to  regard  the  others  as  perversions,  whether  of  the  most 
perfectly  attempered  harmony  or  of  the  best  form  of  govern- 
ment: we  may  compare  the  oHgarchical  forms  to  the  severer 
and  more  overpowering  modes,  and  the  democratic  to  the  more 
relaxed  and  gentler  ones. 

It  must  not  be  assumed,  as  some  are  fond  of  saying,  that 
democracy  is  simply  that  form  of  government  in  which  the 
greater  number  are  sovereign,  for  in  oligarchies,  and  indeed 
in  every  government,  the  majority  rules ;  nor  again  is  oligarchy 
that  form  of  government  in  which  a  few  are  sovereign.  Sup- 
pose the  whole  population  of  a  city  to  be  1,300,  and  that  of 
these  1,000  are  rich,  and  do  not  allow  the  remaining  300  who 
are  poor,  but  free,  and  in  all  other  respects  their  equals,  a 
share  of  the  government — no  one  will  say  that  this  is  a  de- 
mocracy. In  like  manner,  if  the  poor  were  few  and  the  masters 
of  the  rich  who  outnumber  them,  no  one  would  ever  call  such 
a  government,  in  which  the  rich  majority  have  no  share  of 
office,  an  oligarchy.  Therefore  we  should  rather  say  that 
democracy  is  the  form  of  government  in  which  the  free  are 
rulers,  and  oligarchy  in  which  the  rich ;  it  is  only  an  accident 
that  the  free  are  the  many  and  the  rich  are  the  few.  Other- 
wise a  government  in  which  the  offices  were  given  according 
to  stature,  as  it  is  said  to  be  the  case  in  Ethiopia,  or  according 
to  beauty,  would  be  an  oligarchy;  for  the  number  of  tall  or 
good-looking  men  is  small.  And  yet  oligarchy  and  democracy 
are  not  sufficiently  distinguished  merely  by  these  two  charac- 
teristics of  wealth  and  freedom.  Both  of  them  contain  many 
other  elements,  and  therefore  we  must  carry  our  analysis 
further,  and  say  that  the  government  is  not  a  democracy  in 
which  the  freemen,  being  few  in  number,  rule  over  the  many 
who  are  not  free,  as  at  Apollonia,  on  the  Ionian  Gulf,  and  at 
Thera;  (for  in  each  of  these  States  the  nobles,  w-ho  were  also 
the  earliest  settlers,  were  held  in  chief  honor,  although  they 
were  but  a  few  out  of  many).  Neither  is  it  a  democracy  when 
the  rich  have  the  government,  because  they  exceed  in  number ; 
as  was  the  case  formerly  at  Colophon,  where  the  bulk  of  the 
inhabitants  were  possessed  of  large  property  before  the  Lydian 
War.  But  the  form  of  government  is  a  democracy  when  the 
free,  who  are  also  poor  and  the  majority,  govern,  and  oligarchy 


THE   POLITICS  91 

when  the  rich  and  the  noble  govern,  they  being  at  the  same 
time  few  in  number. 

I  have  said  that  there  are  many  forms  of  government,  and 
have  explained  to  what  causes  the  variety  is  due.  Why  there 
are  more  than  those  already  mentioned,  and  what  they  are,  and 
whence  they  arise,  I  will  now  proceed  to  consider,  starting  from 
the  principle  already  admitted,  which  is  that  every  State  con- 
sists, not  of  one,  but  of  many  parts.  If  we  were  going  to  speak 
of  the  different  species  of  animals,  we  should  first  of  all  deter- 
mine the  organs  which  are  indispensable  to  every  animal,  as 
for  example  some  organs  of  sense  and  instruments  of  receiving 
and  digesting  food,  such  as  the  mouth  and  the  stomach,  besides 
organs  of  locomotion.  Assuming  now  that  there  are  only  so 
many  kinds  of  organs,  but  that  there  may  be  differences  in 
them — I  mean  different  kinds  of  mouths,  and  stomachs,  and 
perceptive  and  locomotive  organs — the  possible  combinations 
of  these  differences  will  necessarily  furnish  many  varieties  of 
animals.  (For  animals  cannot  be  the  same  which  have  dif- 
ferent kinds  of  mouths  or  of  ears.)  And  when  all  the  combina- 
tions are  exhausted,  there  will  be  as  many  sorts  of  animals  as 
there  are  combinations  of  the  necessary  organs.  In  like  manner 
the  forms  of  government  which  have  been  described,  as  I 
have  repeatedly  said,  are  composed,  not  of  one,  but  of  many 
elements.  One  element  is  the  food-producing  class,  who  are 
called  husbandmen;  a  second,  the  class  of  mechanics,  who 
practise  the  arts  without  which  a  city  cannot  exist; — of  these 
arts  some  are  absolutely  necessary,  others  contribute  to  luxury 
or  to  the  grace  of  life.  The  third  class  is  that  of  traders,  and 
by  traders  I  mean  those  who  are  engaged  in  buying  and  sell- 
ing, whether  in  commerce  or  in  retail  trade.  A  fourth  class 
is  that  of  the  serfs  or  laborers.  The  warriors  make  up  the 
fifth  class,  and  they  are  as  necessary  as  any  of  the  others, 
if  the  country  is  not  to  be  the  slave  of  every  invader.  For 
how  can  a  State  which  has  any  title  to  the  name  be  of  a  slavish 
nature?  The  State  is  independent  and  self-sufficing,  but  a  slave 
is  the  reverse  of  independent.  Hence  we  see  that  this  subject, 
though  ingeniously,  has  not  been  satisfactorily  treated  in  the 
"  Republic.'^  Socrates  says  that  a  State  is  made  up  of  four 
sorts  of  people  who  are  absolutely  necessary;  these  are  a 
weaver,  a  husbandman,  a  shoemaker,  and  a  builder;    after- 

c  Rep.  ii.  369. 


92 


ARISTOTLE 


wards,  finding  that  they  are  not  enough,  he  adds  a  smith,  and 
again  a  herdsman,  to  look  after  the  necessary  animals;  then 
a  merchant ;  and  then  a  retail  trader.  All  these  together  form 
the  complement  of  the  first  State,  as  if  a  State  were  established 
merely  to  supply  the  necessaries  of  life,  rather  than  for  the 
sake  of  the  good,  or  stood  equally  in  need  of  shoemakers  and 
of  husbandmen.  But  he  does  not  admit  into  the  State  a  mili- 
tary class  until  the  country  has  increased  in  size,  and  is  be- 
ginning to  encroach  on  its  neighbor's  land,  whereupon  they 
go  to  war.  Yet  even  amongst  his  four  original  citizens,  or 
whatever  be  the  number  of  those  whom  he  associates  in  the 
State,  there  must  be  some  one  who  will  dispense  justice  and 
determine  what  is  just.  And  as  the  soul  may  be  said  to  be 
more  truly  part  of  an  animal  than  the  body,  so  the  higher  parts 
of  States,  that  is  to  say,  the  warrior  class,  the  class  engaged 
in  the  administration  of  justice,  and  in  deliberation,  which  is 
the  special  business  of  political  common  sense — these  are  more 
essential  to  the  State  than  the  parts  which  minister  to  the 
necessaries  of  life.  Whether  their  several  functions  are  the 
functions  of  different  citizens,  or  of  the  same — for  it  may  often 
happen  that  the  same  persons  are  both  warriors  and  husband- 
men— is  immaterial  to  the  argument.  The  higher  as  well  as 
the  lower  elements  are  to  be  equally  considered  parts  of  the 
State,  and  if  so,  the  militar\'  element  must  be  included.  There 
are  also  the  wealthy  who  minister  to  the  State  with  their  prop- 
erty ;  these  form  the  seventh  class.  The  eighth  class  is  that 
of  magistrates  and  of  officers ;  for  the  State  cannot  exist  with- 
out rulers.  And  therefore  some  must  be  able  to  take  office 
and  to  serve  the  State,  either  always  or  in  turn.  There  only 
remains  the  class  of  those  who  deliberate  and  who  judge  be- 
tween disputants  ;  we  were  just  now  distinguishing  them.  If 
the  fair  and  equitable  organization  of  all  these  elements  is 
necessary  to  States,  then  there  must  also  be  persons  who  have 
the  ability  of  statesmen.  Many  are  of  opinion  that  different 
functions  can  be  combined  in  the  same  individual ;  for  ex- 
ample, the  warrior  may  also  be  a  husbandman,  or  an  artisan ; 
or,  again,  the  counsellor  a  judge.  And  all  claim  to  possess 
political  ability,  and  think  that  they  are  quite  competent  to  fill 
most  offices.  But  the  same  persons  cannot  be  rich  and  poor 
at  the  same  time.  For  this  reason  the  rich  and  the  poor  are 
regarded  in  an  especial  sense  as  parts  of  a  State.     Again,  be- 


THE  POLITICS  93 

cause  the  rich  are  generally  few  in  number,  while  the  poor  are 
many,  they  appear  to  be  antagonistic,  and  as  the  one  or  the 
other  prevails  they  form  the  government.  Hence  arises  the 
common  opinion  that  there  are  two  kinds  of  government — 
democracy  and  oligarchy. 

I  have  already  explained  that  there  are  many  differences 
of  constitutions,  and  to  what  causes  the  variety  is  due.  Let 
me  now  show  that  there  are  different  forms  both  of  democracy 
and  oligarchy,  as  will  indeed  be  evident  from  what  has  pre- 
ceded. For  both  in  the  common  people  and  in  the  notables 
various  classes  are  included ;  of  the  common  people,  one  class 
are  husbandmen,  another  artisans ;  another  traders,  who  are 
employed  in  buying  and  selling;  another  are  the  seafaring 
class,  whether  engaged  in  war  or  in  trade,  as  ferrymen  or  as 
fishermen.  (In  many  places  any  one  of  these  classes  forms 
quite  a  large  population ;  for  example,  fishermen  at  Tarentum 
and  Byzantium,  crews  of  triremes  at  Athens,  merchant  seamen 
at  ^gina  and  Chios,  ferrymen  at  Tenedos.)  To  the  classes 
already  mentioned  may  be  added  day-laborers,  and  those  who, 
owing  to  their  needy  circumstances,  have  no  leisure,  or  those 
who  are  not  of  free  birth  on  both  sides;  and  there  may  be 
other  classes  as  well.  The  notables  again  may  be  divided  ac- 
cording to  their  wealth,  birth,  virtue,  education,  and  similar 
differences. 

Of  forms  of  democracy  first  comes  that  which  is  said  to 
be  based  strictly  on  equality.  In  such  a  democracy  the  law 
says  that  it  is  just  for  nobody  to  be  poor,  and  for  nobody  to 
be  rich;  and  that  neither  should  be  masters,  but  both  equal. 
For  if  liberty  and  equality,  as  is  thought  by  some,  are  chiefly 
to  be  found  in  democracy,  they  will  be  best  attained  when  all 
persons  alike  share  in  the  government  to  the  utmost.  And 
since  the  people  are  the  majority,  and  the  opinion  of  the  major- 
ity is  decisive,  such  a  government  must  necessarily  be  a  de- 
mocracy. Here  then  is  one  sort  of  democracy.  There  is 
another,  in  which  the  magistrates  are  elected  according 
to  a  certain  property  qualification,  but  a  low  one;  he  who 
has  the  required  amount  of  property  has  a  share  in  the  gov- 
ernment, but  he  who  loses  his  property  loses  his  rights.  An- 
other kind  is  that  in  which  all  the  citizens  who  are  under  no 
disqualification  share  in  the  government,  but  still  the  law  is 
supreme.     In  another,  everybody,  if  he  be  only  a  citizen,  is 


94 


ARISTOTLE 


admitted  to  the  government,  but  the  law  is  supreme  as  before. 
A  fifth  form  of  democracy,  in  other  respects  the  same,  is  that 
in  which,  not  the  law,  but  the  multitude,  have  the  supreme 
power,  and  supersede  the  law  by  their  decrees.  This  is  a  state 
of  affairs  brought  about  by  the  demagogues.  For  in  democ- 
racies which  are  subject  to  the  law  the  best  citizens  hold  the 
first  place,  and  there  are  no  demagogues ;  but  where  the  laws 
are  not  supreme,  there  demagogues  spring  up.  For  the  people 
becomes  a  monarch,  and  is  many  in  one ;  and  the  many  have 
the  power  in  their  hands,  not  as  individuals,  but  collectively. 
Homer  says  that  "  it  is  not  good  to  have  a  rule  of  many,"^ 
but  whether  he  means  this  corporate  rule,  or  the  rule  of  many 
individuals,  is  uncertain.  And  the  people,  who  is  now  a  mon- 
arch, and  no  longer  under  the  control  of  law,  seeks  to  exercise 
monarchical  sway,  and  grows  into  a  despot;  the  flatterer  is 
held  in  honor ;  this  sort  of  democracy  being  relatively  to  other, 
democracies  what  tyranny  is  to  other  forms  of  monarchy. 
The  spirit  of  both  is  the  same,  and  they  alike  exercise  a  despotic 
rule  over  the  better  citizens.  The  decrees  of  the  demos  cor- 
respond to  the  edicts  of  the  tyrant ;  and  the  demagogue  is  to 
the  one  what  the  flatterer  is  to  the  other.  Both  have  great 
power; — the  flatterer  with  the  tyrant,  the  demagogue  with 
democracies  of  the  kind  which  we  are  describing.  The  dema- 
gogues make  the  decrees  of  the  people  override  the  laws,  and 
refer  all  things  to  the  popular  assembly.  And  therefore  they 
grow  great,  because  the  people  have  all  things  in  their  hands, 
and  they  hold  in  their  hands  the  votes  of  the  people,  who  are 
too  ready  to  listen  to  them.  Further,  those  who  have  any 
complaint  to  bring  against  the  magistrates  say,  "  let  the  people 
be  judges  " ;  the  people  are  too  happy  to  accept  the  invitation ; 
and  so  the  authority  of  every  office  is  undermined.  Such  a 
democracy  is  fairly  open  to  the  objection  that  it  is  not  a  con- 
stitution at  all;  for  where  the  laws  have  no  authority,  there 
is  no  constitution.  The  law  ought  to  be  supreme  over  all,  and 
the  magistracies  and  the  government  should  judge  of  particu- 
lars. So  that  if  democracy  be  a  real  form  of  government,  the 
sort  of  constitution  in  which  all  things  are  regulated  by  decrees 
is  clearly  not  a  democracy  in  the  true  sense  of  the  word,  for 
decrees  relate  only  to  particulars.^ 
These  then  are  the  different  kinds  of  democracy.  Of  oli- 
'd  II.  2,  204.  e  Cp.  N.  Eth.  V.  10,  §  7. 


THE  POLITICS 


95 


garchies,  too,  there  are  different  kinds : — one  where  the  prop- 
erty qualification  for  office  is  so  high  that  the  poor,  although 
they  form  the  majority,  have  no  share  in  the  government,  yet  he 
who  acquires  a  qualification  may  obtain  a  share.  Another  sort 
is  when  there  is  a  qualification  for  office,  but  a  high  one,  and 
the  vacancies  in  the  governing  body  are  filled  by  co-optation.  If 
the  election  is  made  out  of  all  the  qualified  persons,  a  constitu- 
tion of  this  kind  inclines  to  an  aristocracy,  if  out  of  a  privileged 
class,  to  an  oligarchy.  Another  sort  of  oligarchy  is  when  the 
son  succeeds  the  father.  There  is  a  fourth  form,  likewise 
hereditary,  in  which  the  magistrates  are  supreme  and  not  the 
law.  Among  oligarchies  this  is  what  tyranny  is  among  mon- 
archies, and  the  last-mentioned  form  of  democracy  among 
democracies;  and  in  fact  this  sort  of  oligarchy  receives  the 
name  of  dynasty  (or  rule  of  powerful  families). 

These  are  the  different  sorts  of  oligarchies  and  democracies. 
It  should  however  be  remembered  that  in  many  States  the  con- 
stitution which  is  established  by  law,  although  not  democratic, 
owing  to  the  character  and  habits  of  the  people,  may  be  ad- 
ministered democratically,  and  conversely  in  other  States  the 
established  constitution  may  incline  to  democracy,  but  may  be 
administered  in  an  oligarchical  spirit.  This  most  often  hap- 
pens after  a  revolution:  for  governments  do  not  change  at 
once ;  at  first  the  dominant  party  are  content  with  encroaching 
a  little  upon  their  opponents.  The  laws  which  existed  pre- 
viously continue  in  force,  but  the  authors  of  the  revolution 
have  the  power  in  their  hands. 

From  what  has  been  already  said  we  may  safely  infer  that 
there  are  so  many  different  kinds  of  democracies  and  of  oli- 
garchies. For  it  is  evident  that  either  all  the  classes  whom 
we  mentioned  must  share  in  the  government,  or  some  only  and 
not  others.  When  the  class  of  husbandmen  and  of  those  who 
possess  moderate  fortunes  have  the  supreme  power,  the  gov- 
ernment is  administered  according  to  law.  For  the  citizens 
being  compelled  to  live  by  their  labor  have  no  leisure;  and 
so  they  set  up  the  authority  of  the  law,  and  attend  assemblies 
only  when  necessary.  Since  they  all  obtain  a  share  in  the 
government  when  they  have  acquired  the  qualification  which 
is  fixed  by  the  law,  nobody  is  excluded — the  absolute  exclusion 
of  any  class  would  be  a  step  towards  oligarchy.  But  leisure 
cannot  be  provided  for  them  unless  there  are  revenues  to  sup- 


96  ARISTOTLE 

port  them.  This  is  one  sort  of  democracy,  and  these  are  the 
causes  which  give  birth  to  it.  Another  kind  is  based  on  the 
mode  of  election,  which  naturally  comes  next  in  order;  in 
this,  everyone  to  whose  birth  there  is  no  objection  is  eligible, 
and  may  share  in  the  government  if  he  can  find  leisure.  And 
in  such  a  democracy  the  supreme  power  is  vested  in  the  laws, 
because  the  State  has  no  means  of  paying  the  citizens.  A 
third  kind  is  when  all  freemen  have  a  right  to  share  in  the 
government,  but  do  not  actually  share,  for  the  reason  which 
has  been  already  given;  so  that  in  this  form  again  the  law 
must  rule.  A  fourth  kind  of  democracy  is  that  w^hich  comes 
latest  in  the  history  of  States.  In  our  own  day,  when  cities 
have  far  outgrown  their  original  size,  and  their  revenues  have 
increased,  all  the  citizens  have  a  place  in  the  government, 
through  the  great  preponderance  of  their  numbers;  and  they 
all,  including  the  poor  who  receive  pay,  and  therefore  have 
leisure  to  exercise  their  rights,  share  in  the  administration. 
Indeed,  when  they  are  paid,  the  common  people  have  the  most 
leisure,  for  they  are  not  hindered  by  the  care  of  their  prop- 
erty, whi<  h  often  fetters  the  rich,  who  are  thereby  prevented 
from  taking  part  in  the  assembly  or  in  the  courts,  and  so  the 
State  is  governed  by  the  poor,  who  are  a  majority,  and  not 
by  the  law^s.  So  many  kinds  of  democracies  there  are,  and 
they  grow  out  of  these  necessary  causes. 

Of  oligarchies,  one  form  is  that  in  which  the  majority  of 
the  citizens  have  some  property,  but  not  very  much ;  and  this 
is  the  first  form,  which  allows  to  anyone  who  obtains  the  re- 
quired amount  the  right  of  sharing  in  the  government.  The 
sharers  in  the  government  being  a  numerous  body,  it  follows 
that  the  law  must  govern,  and  not  individuals.  For  in  pro- 
portion as  they  are  further  removed  from  a  monarchical  form 
of  government,  and  in  respect  of  property  have  neither  so  much 
as  to  be  able  to  live  without  attending  to  business,  nor  so  little 
as  to  need  State  support,  they  must  admit  the  rule  of  law  and 
not  claim  to  rule  themselves.  But  if  the  men  of  property  in 
the  State  are  fewer  than  in  the  former  case,  and  own  more 
property,  there  arises  a  second  form  of  oligarchy.  For  the 
stronger  they  are,  the  more  power  they  claim,  and  having  this 
object  in  view,  they  themselves  select  those  of  the  other  classes 
who  are  to  be  admitted  to  the  government ;  but,  not  being  as 
yet  strong  enough  to  rule  without  the  law,  they  make  the  law 


THE  POLITICS  97 

represent  their  wishes.  When  this  power  is  intensified  by  a 
further  diminution  of  their  numbers  and  increase  of  their  prop- 
erty, there  arises  a  third  and  further  stage  of  ohgarchy,  in 
which  the  governing  class  keep  the  offices  in  their  own  hands, 
and  the  law  ordains  that  the  son  shall  succeed  the  father. 
When,  again,  the  rulers  have  great  wealth  and  numerous 
friends,  this  sort  of  dynastia  or  family  despotism  approaches 
a  monarchy;  individuals  rule  and  not  the  law.  This  is  the 
fourth  sort  of  oligarchy,  and  is  analogous  to  the  last  sort  of 
democracy. 

There  are  still  two  forms  besides  democracy  and  oligarchy; 
one  of  them  is  universally  recognized  and  included  among 
the  four  principal  forms  of  government  which  are  said  to  be 
(i)  monarchy,  (2)  oligarchy,  (3)  democracy,  and  (4)  the 
so-called  aristocracy  or  government  of  the  best.  But  there  is 
also  a  fifth,  which  retains  the  generic  name  of  polity  or  con- 
stitutional government ;  this  is  not  common,  and  therefore 
has  not  been  noticed  by  writers  who  attempt  to  enumerate  the 
different  kinds  of  government;  like  Plato  in  his  books  about 
the  State,  they  recognize  four  only.  The  term  "  aristocracy  " 
is  rightly  applied  to  the  form  of  government  which  is  described 
in  the  first  part  of  our  treatise;  for  that  only  can  be  rightly 
called  aristocracy  [the  government  of  the  best]  which  is  a 
government  formed  of  the  best  men  absolutely,  and  not  merely 
of  men  who  are  good  when  tried  by  any  given  standard.  In 
the  perfect  State  the  good  man  is  absolutely  the  same  as  the 
good  citizen;  whereas  in  other  States  the  good  citizen  is  only 
good  relatively  to  his  own  form  of  government.  But  there 
are  some  States  differing  from  oligarchies  and  also  differing 
from  the  so-called  polity  or  constitutional  government ;  these 
are  termed  aristocracies,  and  in  them  magistrates  are  certainly 
chosen,  both  according  to  their  wealth  and  according  to  their 
merit.  Such  a  form  of  government  is  not  the  same  with  the 
two  just  now'  mentioned,  and  is  termed  an  aristocracy.  For 
indeed  in  States  which  do  not  make  virtue  the  aim  of  the 
community,  men  of  merit  and  reputation  for  virtue  may  be 
found.  And  so  where  a  government  has  regard  to  wealth, 
virtue,  and  numbers,  as  at  Carthage,  that  is  aristocracy ;  and 
also  where  it  has  regard  only  to  two  out  of  three,  as  at  Lace- 
daemon,  to  virtue  and  numbers,  and  the  two  principles  of  de- 
mocracy and  virtue  temper  each  other.  There  are  these  two 
7 


98  ARISTOTLE 

forms  of  aristocracy  in  addition  to  the  first  and  perfect  State, 
and  there  is  a  third  form,  viz.,  the  poHties  which  incline  to- 
wards oligarchy. 

I  have  yet  to  speak  of  the  so-called  polity  and  of  tyranny. 
I  put  them  in  this  order,  not  because  a  polity  or  constitutional 
government  is  to  be  regarded  as  a  perversion  any  more  than 
the  above-mentioned  aristocracies.  The  truth  is,  that  they  all 
fall  short  of  the  most  perfect  form  of  government,  and  so 
they  are  reckoned  among  perversions,  and  other  forms  (sc. 
the  really  perverted  forms)  are  perversions  of  these,  as  I  said 
before.  Last  of  all  I  will  speak  of  tyranny,  which  I  place  last 
in  the  series  because  I  am  inquiring  into  the  constitutions  of 
States,  and  this  is  the  very  reverse  of  a  constitution. 

Having  explained  why  I  have  adopted  this  order,  I  will 
proceed  to  consider  constitutional  government;  of  which  the 
nature  will  be  clearer  now  that  oligarchy  and  democracy  have 
been  defined.  For  polity  or  constitutional  government  may 
be  described  generally  as  a  fusion  of  oligarchy  and  democracy ; 
but  the  term  is  usually  applied  to  those  forms  of  government 
which  incline  towards  democracy,  and  the  term  aristocracy  to 
those  which  incline  towards  oligarchy,  because  birth  and  educa- 
tion are  commonly  the  accompaniments  of  wealth.  Moreover, 
the  rich  already  possess  the  external  advantages  the  want  of 
which  is  a  temptation  to  crime,  and  hence  they  are  called  noble- 
men and  gentlemen.  And  inasmuch  as  aristocracy  seeks  to 
give  predominance  to  the  best  of  the  citizens,  people  say  also  of 
oligarchies  that  they  are  composed  of  noblemen  and  gentle- 
men. Now  it  appears  to  be  an  impossible  thing  that  the  State 
which  is  governed  by  the  best  citizens  should  be  ill-governed, 
and  equally  impossible  that  the  State  which  is  ill-governed 
should  be  governed  by  the  best.  But  we  must  remember  that 
good  laws,  if  they  are  not  obeyed,  do  not  constitute  good  gov- 
ernment. For  there  are  two  parts  of  good  government;  one 
is  the  actual  obedience  of  citizens  to  the  laws,  the  other  part 
is  the  goodness  of  the  laws  which  they  obey;  they  may  obey 
bad  laws  as  well  as  good.  And  there  may  be  a  further  sub- 
division ;  they  may  obey  either  the  best  laws  which  are  attain- 
able to  them,  or  the  best  absolutely. 

The  distribution  of  offices  according  to  merit  is  a  special 
characteristic  of  aristocracy,  for  the  principle  of  an  aristocracy 
is  virtue,  as  wealth  is  of  an  oligarchy,  and  freedom  of  a  de- 


THE  POLITICS  99 

mocracy.  In  all  of  them  there  of  course  exists  the  right  of 
the  majority,  and  whatever  seems  good  to  the  majority  of 
those  who  share  in  the  government  has  authority.  Generally, 
however,  a  State  of  this  kind  is  called  a  constitutional  govern- 
ment [not  an  aristocracy],  for  the  fusion  goes  no  further  than 
the  attempt  to  unite  the  freedom  of  the  poor  and  the  wealth 
of  the  rich,  who  commonly  take  the  place  of  the  noble.  And 
as  there  are  three  grounds  on  which  men  claim  an  equal  share 
in  the  government,  freedom,  wealth,  and  virtue  (for  the  fourth 
or  good  birth  is  the  result  of  the  two  last,  being  only  ancient 
wealth  and  virtue),  it  is  clear  that  the  admixture  of  the  two 
elements,  that  is  to  say,  of  the  rich  and  poor,  is  to  be  called 
a  polity  or  constitutional  government ;  and  the  union  of  the 
three  is  to  be  called  aristocracy  or  the  government  of  the 
best,  and  more  than  any  other  form  of  goyemment,  except 
the  true  and  ideal,  has  a  right  to  this  name. 

Thus  far  I  have  described  the  different  forms  of  States  which 
exist  besides  monarchy,  democracy,  and  oligarchy,  and  what 
they  are  and  in  what  aristocracies  differ  from  one  another, 
and  polities  from  aristocracies — that  the  two  latter  are  not 
very  unlike  is  obvious. 

Next  we  have  to  consider  how  by  the  side  of  oligarchy  and 
democracy  the  so-called  polity  or  constitutional  government 
springs  up,  and  how  it  should  be  organized.  The  nature  of 
it  will  be  at  once  understood  from  a  comparison  of  oligarchy 
and  democracy;  we  must  ascertain  their  different  character- 
istics, and  taking  a  portion  from  each,  put  the  two  together, 
like  the  parts  of  an  indenture.  Now  there  are  three  modes 
in  which  fusions  of  government  may  be  effected.  The  nature 
of  the  fusion  will  be  made  intelligible  by  an  example  of  the 
manner  in  which  different  governments  legislate,  say  con- 
cerning the  administration  of  justice.  In  oligarchies  they  im- 
pose a  fine  on  the  rich  if  they  do  not  serve  as  judges,  and  to 
the  poor  they  give  no  pay;  but  in  democracies  they  give 
pay  to  the  poor  and  do  not  fine  the  rich.  Now  ( i )  the  union 
of  these  two  modes  is  a  common  or  middle  term  between 
them,  and  is  therefore  characteristic  of  a  constitutional  gov- 
ernment, for  it  is  a  combination  of  both.  This  is  one  mode  of 
uniting  the  two  elements.  Or  (2)  a  mean  may  be  taken  be- 
tween the  enactments  of  the  two:  thus  democracies  require 
no  property  qualification,  or  only  a  small  one,  from  members 


lOO  ARISTOTLE 

of  the  assembly,  oligarchies  a  high  one ;  here  neither  of  these 
is  the  common  term,  but  a  mean  between  them.  (3)  There 
is  a  third  mode,  in  which  something  is  borrowed  from  the 
oligarchical  and  something  from  the  democratical  principle. 
For  example,  the  appointment  of  magistrates  by  lot  is  demo- 
cratical, and  the  election  of  them  oligarchical;  democratical 
again  when  there  is  no  property  qualification,  oligarchical 
when  there  is.  In  the  aristocratical  or  constitutional  State, 
one  element  will  be  taken  from  each — from  oligarchy  the 
mode  of  electing  to  offices,  from  democracy  the  disregard  of 
qualification.    Such  are  the  various  modes  of  combination. 

There  is  a  true  union  of  oligarchy  and  democracy  when  the 
same  State  may  be  termed  either  a  democracy  or  an  oligarchy ; 
those  who  use  both  names  evidently  feel  that  the  fusion  is 
complete.  Such  a  fusion  there  is  also  in  the  mean ;  for  both 
extremes  appear  in  it.  The  Lacedaemonian  constitution,  for 
example,  is  often  described  as  a  democracy,  because  it  has 
many  democratical  features.  In  the  first  place  the  youth  re- 
ceive a  democratical  education.  For  the  sons  of  the  poor  are 
brought  up  with  the  sons  of  the  rich,  who  are  educated  in 
such  a  manner  as  to  make  it  possible  for  the  sons  of  the  poor 
to  be  educated  like  them.  A  similar  equality  prevails  in  the 
following  period  of  life,  and  when  the  citizens  are  grown  up 
to  manhood  the  same  rule  is  observed ;  there  is  no  distinction 
between  the  rich  and  the  poor.  In  like  manner  they  all  have 
the  same  food  at  their  public  tables,  and  the  rich  wear  only 
such  clothing  as  any  poor  man  can  afford.  Again,  the  people 
elect  to  one  of  the  two  greatest  offices  of  State,  and  in  the 
other  they  share ;  for  they  elect  the  Senators  and  share  in  the 
ephoralty.  By  others  the  Spartan  constitution  is  said  to  be 
an  oligarchy,  because  it  has  many  oligarchical  elements.  That 
all  offices  are  filled  by  election  and  none  by  lot,  is  one  of  these 
oligarchical  characteristics;  that  the  power  of  inflicting  death 
or  banishment  rests  with  a  few  persons  is  another ;  and  there 
are  others.  In  a  well  attempered  polity  there  should  appear  to 
be  both  elements  and  yet  neither ;  also  the  government  should 
rely  on  itself,  and  not  on  foreign  aid,  nor  on  the  goodwill  of 
a  majority  of  foreign  States — they  might  be  equally  w^ell  dis- 
posed when  there  is  a  vicious  form  of  government — but  on  the 
general  willingness  of  all  classes  in  the  State  to  maintain  the 
constitution. 


THE  POLITICS  loi 

Enough  of  the  manner  in  which  a  constitutional  government, 
and  in  which  the  so-called  aristocracies  ought  to  be  framed. 
Of  the  nature  of  tyranny  I  have  still  to  speak,  in  order  that 
it  may  have  its  place  in  our  inquiry,  since  even  tyranny  is 
reckoned  by  us  to  be  a  form  of  government,  although  there 
is  not  much  to  be  said  about  it.  I  have  already  in  the  former 
part  of  this  treatise  discussed  royalty  or  kingship  according 
to  the  most  usual  meaning  of  the  term,  and  considered  whether 
it  is  or  is  not  advantageous  to  States,  and  what  kind  of  royalty 
should  be  established,  and  whence,  and  how  it  arises. 

When  speaking  of  royalty  we  also  spoke  of  two  forms  of 
tyranny,  which  are  both  according  to  law,  and  therefore  easily 
pass  into  royalty.  Among  barbarians  there  are  elected  mon- 
archs  who  exercise  a  despotic  power;  despotic  rulers  were 
also  elected  in  ancient  Hellas,  called  yEsymnetes,  or  dictators. 
These  monarchies,  when  compared  with  one  another,  exhibit 
certain  differences.  And  they  are,  as  I  said  before,  royal,  in 
so  far  as  the  monarch  rules  according  to  law  and  over  willing 
subjects ;  but  they  are  tyrannical  in  so  far  as  he  is  despotic 
and  rules  according  to  his  own  fancy.  There  is  also  a  third 
kind  of  tyranny,  which  is  the  most  typical  form,  and  is  the 
counterpart  of  the  perfect  monarchy.  This  tyranny  is  just 
that  arbitrary  power  of  an  individual  which  is  responsible  to 
no  one,  and  governs  all  alike,  whether  equals  or  betters,  with 
a  view  to  its  own  advantage,  not  to  that  of  its  subjects,  and 
therefore  against  their  will.  No  freeman,  if  he  can  escape 
from  it,  will  endure  such  a  government. 

The  kinds  of  tyranny  are  such  and  so  many,  and  for  the 
reasons  which  I  have  given. 

We  have  now  to  inquire  what  is  the  best  constitution  for 
most  States,  and  the  best  life  for  most  men,  neither  assuming 
a  standard  of  virtue  which  is  above  ordinary  persons,  nor  an 
education  which  is  exceptionally  favored  by  nature  and  cir- 
cumstances, nor  yet  an  ideal  State  which  is  an  aspiration  only, 
but  having  regard  to  the  life  in  which  the  majority  are  able 
to  share,  and  to  the  form  of  government  which  States  in  gen- 
eral can  attain.  As  to  those  aristocracies,  as  they  are  called, 
of  which  we  were  just  now  speaking,  they  either  lie  beyond 
the  possibihties  of  the  greater  number  of  States,  or  they  ap- 
proximate to  the  so-called  constitutional  government,  and 
therefore  need  no  separate  discussion.     And  in  fact  the  con- 


loa  ARISTOTLE 

elusion  at  which  we  arrive  respecting  all  these  forms  rests 
upon  the  same  grounds.  For  if  it  has  been  truly  said  in  the 
"  Ethics  "f  that  the  happy  life  is  the  life  according  to  unim- 
peded virtue,  and  that  virtue  is  a  mean,  then  the  life  which 
is  in  a  mean,  and  in  a  m.ean  attainable  by  everyone,  must  be 
the  best.  And  the  same  principles  of  virtue  and  vice  are  char- 
acteristic of  cities  and  of  constitutions;  for  the  constitution 
is  in  a  figure  the  life  of  a  city. 

Now  in  all  States  there  are  three  elements ;  one  class  is 
very  rich,  another  very  poor,  and  a  third  in  a  mean.  It  is 
admitted  that  moderation  and  the  mean  are  best,  and  therefore 
it  will  clearly  be  best  to  possess  the  gifts  of  fortune  in  modera- 
tion; for  in  that  condition  of  life  men  are  most  ready  to 
listen  to  reason.  But  he  who  greatly  excels  in  beauty,  strength, 
birth  or  wealth,  or  on  the  other  hand  who  is  very  poor,  or 
very  weak,  or  very  much  disgraced,  finds  it  difficult  to  follow 
reason.?  Of  these  two  the  one  sort  grow  into  violent  and 
great  criminals,  the  others  into  rogues  and  petty  rascals.  And 
two  sorts  of  offences  correspond  to  them,/'  the  one  committed 
from  violence,  the  other  from  roguery.  The  petty  rogues  are 
disinclined  to  hold  office,  whether  military  or  civil,  and  their 
aversion  to  these  two  duties  is  as  great  an  injury  to  the  State 
as  their  tendency  to  crime.  Again,  those  who  have  too  much 
of  the  goods  of  fortune,  strength,  wealth,  friends,  and  the  like, 
are  neither  willing  nor  able  to  submit  to  authority.  The  evil 
begins  at  home:  for  when  they  are  boys,  by  reason  of  the 
luxury  in  which  they  are  brought  up,  they  never  learn,  even 
at  school,  the  habit  of  obedience.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
very  poor,  who  are  in  the  opposite  extreme,  are  too  degraded. 
So  that  the  one  class  cannot  obey,  and  can  only  rule  despoti- 
cally; the  other  knows  not  how  to  command  and  must  be 
ruled  like  slaves.  Thus  arises  a  city,  not  of  freemen,  but  of 
masters  and  slaves,  the  one  despising,  the  other  envying ;  and 
nothing  can  be  more  fatal  to  friendship  and  good-fellowship 
in  States  than  this:  for  good-fellowship  tends  to  friendship; 
when  men  are  at  enmity  with  one  another,  they  would  rather 
not  even  share  the  same  path.  But  a  city  ought  to  be 
composed,  as  far  as  possible,  of  equals  and  similars;  and 
these  are  generally  the  middle  classes.  Wherefore  the  city 
which  is  composed  of  middle-class  citizens  is  necessarily  best 

f  N.  Eth.  vii.  13,  §  2.  g  Cp.  PI.  Rep.  iv.  421  c,  D  fif. 

h  Laws  viii.  831  E. 


THE  POLITICS  103 

governed ;  they  are,  as  we  say,  the  natural  elements  of  a  State. 
And  this  is  the  class  of  citizens  which  is  most  secure  in  a 
State,  for  they  do  not,  like  the  poor,  covet  their  neighbors' 
goods ;  nor  do  others  covet  theirs,  as  the  poor  covet  the  goods 
of  the  rich;  and  as  they  neither  plot  against  others,  nor  are 
themselves  plotted  against,  they  pass  through  life  safely. 
Wisely  then  did  Phocylides  pray,  "  Many  things  are  best  in 
the  mean ;  I  desire  to  be  of  a  middle  condition  in  my  city." 

Thus  it  is  manifest  that  the  best  political  community  is 
formed  by  citizens  of  the  middle  class,  and  that  those  States 
are  likely  to  be  well  administered,  in  which  the  middle  class 
is  large,  and  larger  if  possible  than  both  the  other  classes, 
or  at  any  rate  than  either  singly;  for  the  addition  of  the 
middle  class  turns  the  scale,  and  prevents  either  of  the  extremes 
from  being  dominant.  Great  then  is  the  good  fortune  of  a 
State  in  which  the  citizens  have  a  moderate  and  sufficient 
property ;  for  where  some  possess  much,  and  the  others  noth- 
ing, there  may  arise  an  extreme  democracy,  or  a  pure  oli- 
garchy ;  or  a  tyranny  may  grow  out  of  either  extreme — either 
out  of  the  most  rampant  democracy,  or  out  of  an  oligarchy; 
but  it  is  not  so  likely  to  arise  out  of  a  middle  and  nearly  equal 
condition.  I  will  explain  the  reason  of  this  hereafter,  when 
I  speak  of  the  revolutions  of  States.  The  mean  condition  of 
States  is  clearly  best,  for  no  other  is  free  from  faction;  and 
where  the  middle  class  is  large,  there  are  least  likely  to  be 
factions  and  dissensions.  For  a  similar  reason  large  States 
are  less  liable  to  faction  than  small  ones,  because  in  them  the 
middle  class  is  large;  whereas  in  small  States  it  is  easy  to 
divide  all  the  citizens  into  two  classes  who  are  either  rich  or 
poor,  and  to  leave  nothing  in  the  middle.  And  democracies  are 
safer  and  more  permanent  than  oligarchies,  because  they  have 
a  middle  class  which  is  more  numerous  and  has  a  greater 
share  in  the  government;  for  when  there  is  no  middle  class, 
and  the  poor  greatly  exceed  in  number,  troubles  arise,  and  the 
State  soon  comes  to  an  end.  A  proof  of  the  superiority  of  the 
middle  class  is  that  the  best  legislators  have  been  of  a  middle 
condition ;  for  example,  Solon,  as  his  own  verses  tesify ;  and 
Lycurgus,  for  he  was  not  a  king ;  and  Charondas,  and  almost 
all  legislators. 

These  considerations  will  help  us  to  understand  why  most 
governments  are  either  democratical  or  oligarchical.    The  rea- 


I04  ARISTOTLE 

son  is  that  the  middle  class  is  seldom  numerous  in  them,  and 
whichever  party,  whether  the  rich  or  the  common  people, 
transgresses  the  mean  and  predominates,  draws  the  govern- 
ment to  itself,  and  thus  arises  either  oligarchy  or  democracy. 
There  is  another  reason — the  poor  and  the  rich  quarrel  with 
one  another,  and  whichever  side  gets  the  better,  instead  of 
establishing  a  just  or  popular  government,  regards  political 
supremacy  as  the  prize  of  victory,  and  the  one  party  sets  up 
a  democracy  and  the  other  an  oligarchy.  Both  the  parties 
which  had  the  supremacy  in  Hellas  looked  only  to  the  interest 
of  their  own  form  of  government,  and  established  in  States, 
the  one,  democracies,  and  the  other,  oligarchies ;  they  thought 
of  their  own  advantage,  of  the  public  not  at  all.  For  these 
reasons  the  middle  form  of  governments  has  rarely,  if  ever, 
existed,  and  among  a  very  few  only.  One  man  alone  of  all 
who  ever  ruled  in  Hellas  was  induced  to  give  this  middle  con- 
stitution to  States.  But  it  has  now  become  a  habit  among 
the  citizens  of  States,  not  even  to  care  about  equality;  all 
men  are  seeking  for  dominion,  or,  if  conquered,  are  willing  to 
submit. 

What  then  is  the  best  form  of  government,  and  what  makes 
it  the  best  is  evident;  and  of  other  States,  since  we  say  that 
there  are  many  kinds  of  democracy  and  many  of  oligarchy, 
it  is  not  difficult  to  see  which  has  the  first  and  which  the  second 
or  any  other  place  in  the  order  of  excellence,  now  that  we  have 
determined  which  is  the  best.  For  that  which  is  nearest  to 
the  best  must  of  necessity  be  better,  and  that  which  is  furthest 
from  it  worse,  if  we  are  judging  absolutely  and  not  relatively 
to  given  conditions :  I  say  "  relatively  to  given  conditions," 
since  a  particular  government  may  be  preferable  for  some, 
but  another  form  may  be  better  for  others. 

We  have  now  to  consider  what  and  what  kind  of  govern- 
ment is  suitable  to  what  and  what  kind  of  men.  I  may  begin 
by  assuming,  as  a  general  principle  common  to  all  govern- 
ments, that  the  portion  of  the  State  which  desires  permanence 
ought  to  be  stronger  than  that  which  desires  the  reverse.  Now 
every  city  is  composed  of  quality  and  quantity.  By  quality 
I  mean  freedom,  wealth,  education,  good  birth,  and  by  quantity, 
superiority  of  numbers.  Quality  may  exist  in  one  of  the 
classes  which  make  up  the  State,  and  quantity  in  the  other. 
For  example,  the  meanly  born  may  be  more  in  number  than 


THE  POLITICS  105 

the  well-born,  or  the  poor  than  the  rich,  yet  they  may  not  so 
much  exceed  in  quantity  as  they  fall  short  in  quality;  and 
therefore  there  must  be  a  comparison  of  quantity  and  quality. 
Where  the  number  of  the  poor  is  more  than  proportioned  to 
the  wealth  of  the  rich,  there  will  naturally  be  a  democracy, 
varying  in  form  with  the  sort  of  people  who  compose  it  in 
each  case.  If,  for  example,  the  husbandmen  exceed  in  num- 
ber, the  first  form  of  democracy  will  then  arise ;  if  the  artisans 
and  laboring  class,  the  last;  and  so  with  the  intermediate 
forms.  But  where  the  rich  and  the  notables  exceed  in  quality 
more  than  they  fall  short  in  quantity,  there  oligarchy  arises, 
similarly  assuming  various  forms  according  to  the  kind  of 
superiority  possessed  by  the  oligarchs. 

The  legislator  should  always  include  the  middle  class  in 
his  government;  if  he  makes  his  laws  oligarchical,  to  the 
middle  class  let  him  look ;  if  he  makes  them  democratical, 
he  should  equally  by  his  laws  try  to  attach  this  class  to  the 
State.  There  only  can  the  government  ever  be  stable  where 
the  middle  class  exceeds  one  or  both  of  the  others,  and  in  that 
case  there  will  be  no  fear  that  the  rich  will  unite  with  the 
poor  against  the  rulers.  For  neither  of  them  will  ever  be 
willing  to  serve  the  other,  and  if  they  look  for  some  form  of 
government  more  suitable  to  both,  they  will  find  none  better 
than  this,  for  the  rich  and  the  poor  will  never  consent  to  rule 
in  turn,  because  they  mistrust  one  another.  The  arbiter  is 
always  the  one  trusted,  and  he  who  is  in  the  middle  is  an 
arbiter.  The  more  perfect  the  admixture  of  the  political  ele- 
ments, the  more  lasting  will  be  the  State.  Many  even  of  those 
who  desire  to  form  aristocratical  governments  make  a  mis- 
take, not  only  in  giving  too  much  power  to  the  rich,  but  in 
attempting  to  overreach  the  people.  There  comes  a  time 
when  out  of  a  false  good  there  arises  a  true  evil,  since  the 
encroachments  of  the  rich  are  more  destructive  to  the  State 
than  those  of  the  people. 

The  devices  by  which  oligarchies  deceive  the  people  are 
five  in  number;  they  relate  to  (i)  the  assembly;  (2)  the 
magistracies;  (3)  the  courts  of  law;  (4)  the  use  of  arms; 
(5)  gymnastic  exercises,  (i)  The  assemblies  are  thrown 
open  to  all,  but  either  the  rich  only  are  fined  for  non-attendance, 
or  a  much  larger  fine  is  inflicted  upon  them.  (2)  As  to  magis- 
tracies, those  who  are  qualified  by  property  cannot  decline 


io6  ARISTOTLE 

office  upon  oath,  but  the  poor  may.  (3)  In  the  law  courts  the 
rich,  and  the  rich  only,  are  fined  if  they  do  not  serve,  the 
poor  are  let  off  with  impunity,  or,  as  in  the  laws  of  Charondas, 
a  large  fine  is  inflicted  on  the  rich,  and  a  smaller  one  on  the 
poor.  In  some  States  all  the  citizens  who  have  registered  them- 
selves are  allowed  to  attend  the  assembly  and  try  causes ;  but 
if  after  registration  they  do  not  attend  in  the  assembly  or  at 
the  courts,  heavy  fines  are  imposed  upon  them.  The  intention 
is  that  through  fear  of  the  fines  they  may  avoid  registering 
themselves,  and  then  they  cannot  sit  in  the  law  courts  or  in 
the  assembly.  (4)  Concerning  the  possession  of  arms,  and  (5) 
gymnastic  exercises,  they  legislate  in  a  similar  spirit.  For 
the  poor  are  not  obliged  to  have  arms,  but  the  rich  are  fined 
for  not  having  them ;  and  in  like  manner  no  penalty  is  inflicted 
on  the  poor  for  non-attendance  at  the  gymnasium,  and  con- 
sequently, having  nothing  to  fear,  they  do  not  attend,  whereas 
the  rich  are  liable  to  a  fine,  and  therefore  they  take  care  to 
attend. 

These  are  the  devices  of  oligarchical  legislators,  and  in  de- 
mocracies they  have  counter-devices.  They  pay  the  poor  for 
attending  the  assemblies  and  the  law  courts,  and  they  inflict 
no  penalty  on  the  rich  for  non-attendance.  It  is  obvious  that 
he  who  would  duly  mix  the  two  principles  should  combine 
the  practice  of  both,  and  provide  that  the  poor  should  be 
paid  to  attend,  and  the  rich  fined  if  they  do  not  attend,  for 
then  all  will  take  part ;  if  there  is  no  such  combination,  power 
will  be  in  the  hands  of  one  party  only.  The  government 
should  be  confined  to  those  who  carry  arms.  As  to  the  prop- 
erty qualification,  no  absolute  rule  can  be  laid  down,  but  we 
must  see  what  is  the  highest  qualification  sufficiently  com- 
prehensive to  secure  that  the  number  of  those  who  have  the 
rights  of  citizens  exceeds  the  number  of  those  excluded.  Even 
if  they  have  no  share  in  office,  the  poor,  provided  only  that 
they  are  not  outraged  or  deprived  of  their  property,  will  be 
quiet  enough. 

But  to  secure  gentle  treatment  for  the  poor  is  not  an  easy 
thing,  since  a  ruling  class  is  not  always  humane.  And  in 
time  of  war  the  poor  are  apt  to  hesitate  unless  they  are  fed ; 
when  fed,  they  are  willing  enough  to  fight.  In  some  States 
the  government  is  vested,  not  only  in  those  who  are  actually 
serving,  but  also  in  those  who  have  served ;  among  the  Malians, 


THE  POLITICS  f07 

for  example,  the  governing  body  consisted  of  the  latter,  while 
the  magistrates  were  chosen  from  those  actually  on  service. 
And  the  earliest  government  which  existed  among  the  Hel- 
lenes, after  the  overthrow  of  the  kingly  power,  grew  up  out 
of  the  warrior  class,  and  was  originally  taken  from  the  knights 
(for  strength  and  superiority  in  war  at  that  time  depended  on 
cavalry) ;  indeed,  without  discipline,  infantry  are  useless,  and 
in  ancient  times  there  was  no  military  knowledge  or  tactics, 
and  therefore  the  strength  of  armies  lay  in  their  cavalry.  But 
when  cities  increased  and  the  heavy-armed  grew  in  strength, 
more  had  a  share  in  the  government;  and  this  is  the  reason 
why  the  States,  which  we  call  constitutional  governments, 
have  been  hitherto  called  democracies.  Ancient  constitutions, 
as  might  be  expected,  were  oligarchical  and  royal ;  their  popu- 
lation being  small  they  had  no  considerable  middle  class;  the 
people  were  weak  in  numbers  and  organization,  and  were  there- 
fore more  contented  to  be  governed. 

I  have  explained  why  there  are  various  forms  of  govern- 
ment, and  why  there  are  more  than  is  generally  supposed; 
for  democracy,  as  well  as  other  constitutions,  has  more  than 
one  form :  also  what  their  differences  are,  and  whence  they 
arise,  and  what  is  the  best  form  of  government,  speaking  gen- 
erally, and  to  whom  the  various  forms  of  government  are  best 
suited;  all  this  has  now  been  explained. 

Having  thus  gained  an  appropriate  basis  of  discussion  we 
will  proceed  to  speak  of  the  points  which  follow  next  in  order. 
We  will  consider  the  subject  not  only  in  general  but  with 
reference  to  particular  States.  All  States  have  three  elements, 
and  the  good  law-giver  has  to  regard  what  is  expedient  for 
each  State.  When  they  are  well  ordered,  the  State  is  well 
ordered,  and  as  they  differ  from  one  another,  constitutions 
differ.  What  is  the  element  first  (i)  which  deliberates  about 
public  affairs ;  secondly  (2)  which  is  concerned  with  the  magis- 
trates and  determines  what  they  should  be,  over  whom  they 
should  exercise  authority,  and  what  should  be  the  mode  of 
electing  them;  and  thirdly  (3)  which  has  judicial  power? 

The  deliberative  element  has  authority  in  matters  of  war 
and  peace,  in  making  and  unmaking  alliances ;  it  passes  laws, 
inflicts  death,  exile,  confiscation,  audits  the  accounts  of  magis- 
trates. All  these  powers  must  be  assigned  either  to  all  the 
citizens  or  to  some  of  them,  for  example,  to  one  or  more  magis- 


io8  ARISTOTLE 

tracies;  or  different  causes  to  different  magistracies,  or  some 
of  them  to  all,  and  others  of  them  only  to  some.  That  all  things 
should  be  decided  by  all  is  characteristic  of  democracy;  this 
is  the  sort  of  equality  which  the  people  desire.  But  there  are 
various  ways  in  which  all  may  share  in  the  government ;  they 
may  deliberate,  not  all  in  one  body,  but  by  turns,  as  in  the 
constitution  of  Telecles  the  Milesian.  There  are  other  States 
in  which  the  boards  of  magistrates  meet  and  deliberate,  but 
come  into  office  by  turns,  and  are  elected  out  of  the  tribes  and 
the  very  smallest  divisions  of  the  State,  until  everyone  has 
obtained  office  in  his  turn.  The  citizens,  on  the  other  hand, 
are  assembled  only  for  the  purposes  of  legislation,  and  to  con- 
sult about  the  constitution,  and  to  hear  the  edicts  of  the  magis- 
trates. In  another  variety  of  democracy  the  citizens  form  one 
assembly,  but  meet  only  to  elect  magistrates,  to  pass  laws,  to 
advise  about  war  and  peace,  and  to  make  scrutinies.  Other 
matters  are  referred  severally  to  special  magistrates,  who  are 
elected  by  vote  or  by  lot  out  of  all  the  citizens.  Or  again,  the 
citizens  meet  about  election  to  offices  and  about  scrutinies, 
and  deliberate  concerning  war  or  alliances,  while  other  matters 
are  administered  by  the  magistrates,  who,  as  far  as  is  possible, 
are  elected  by  vote.  I  am  speaking  of  those  magistracies  in 
which  special  knowledge  is  required.  A  fourth  form  of  de- 
mocracy is  when  all  the  citizens  meet  to  deliberate  about  every- 
thing, and  the  magistrates  decide  nothing,  but  only  make  the 
preliminary  inquiries;  and  that  is  the  way  in  which  the  last 
and  worst  form  of  democracy,  corresponding,  as  we  main- 
tain, to  the  close  family  oligarchy  and  to  tyranny,  is  at  present 
administered.     All  these  modes  are  democratical. 

On  the  other  hand,  that  some  should  deliberate  about  all 
is  oligarchical.  This  again  is  a  mode  which,  like  the  demo- 
cratical, has  many  forms.  When  the  deliberative  class  being 
elected  out  of  those  who  have  a  moderate  qualification  are 
numerous  and  they  respect  and  obey  the  law  without  altering 
it,  and  anyone  who  has  the  required  qualification  shares  in  the 
government,  then,  just  because  of  this  moderation,  the  oli- 
garchy inclines  towards  polity.  But  when  only  selected  indi- 
viduals and  not  the  whole  people  share  in  the  deliberations 
of  the  State,  then,  although,  as  in  the  former  case,  they  ob- 
serve the  law,  the  government  is  a  pure  oligarchy.  Or,  again, 
when  those  who  have  the  power  of  deliberation  are  self-elected. 


THE  POLITICS  109 

and  son  succeeds  father,  and  they  and  not  the  laws  are  su- 
preme— the  government  is  of  necessity  oHgarchical.  Where, 
again,  particular  persons  have  authority  in  particular  matters ; 
— for  example,  when  the  whole  people  decide  about  peace  and 
war  and  hold  scrutinies,  but  the  magistrates  regulate  every- 
thing else,  and  they  are  elected  either  by  vote  or  by  lot — there 
the  form  of  government  is  an  aristocracy  or  polity.  And  if 
some  questions  are  decided  by  magistrates  elected  by  vote, 
and  others  by  magistrates  elected  by  lot,  either  absolutely  or 
out  of  select  candidates,  or  elected  both  by  vote  and  by  lot — 
these  practices  are  partly  characteristic  of  an  aristocratical  gov- 
ernment, and  partly  of  a  pure  constitutional  government. 

These  are  the  various  forms  of  the  deliberative  body;  they 
correspond  to  the  various  forms  of  government.  And  the 
government  of  each  State  is  administered  according  to  one 
or  other  of  the  principles  which  have  been  laid  down.  Now  it 
is  for  the  interest  of  democracy,  according  to  the  most  prev- 
alent notion  of  it  (I  am  speaking  of  that  extreme  form  of 
democracy,  in  which  the  people  are  supreme  even  over  the 
laws),  with  a  view  to  better  deliberation  to  adopt  the  custom 
of  oligarchies  respecting  courts  of  law.  For  in  oligarchies  the 
rich  who  are  wanted  to  be  judges  are  compelled  to  attend  under 
pain  of  a  fine,  whereas  in  democracies  the  poor  are  paid  to 
attend.  And  this  practice  of  oligarchies  should  be  adopted 
by  democracies  in  their  public  assemblies,  for  they  will  ad- 
vise better  if  they  all  deliberate  together — the  people  with  the 
notables  and  the  notables  with  the  people.  It  is  also  a  good 
plan  that  those  who  deliberate  should  be  elected  by  vote  or  by 
lot  in  equal  numbers  out  of  the  different  classes ;  and  that  if 
the  people  greatly  exceed  in  number  those  who  have  political 
training,  pay  should  not  be  given  to  all,  but  only  to  as  many 
as  would  balance  the  number  of  the  notables,  or  that  the  num- 
ber in  excess  should  be  eliminated  by  lot.  But  in  oligarchies, 
either  certain  persons  should  be  chosen  out  of  the  mass,  or  a 
class  of  officers  should  be  appointed  such  as  exist  in  some  States, 
who  are  termed  probuli  and  guardians  of  the  law;  and  the 
citizens  should  occupy  themselves  exclusively  with  matters  on 
which  these  have  previously  deliberated  ;  for  so  the  people  will 
have  a  share  in  the  deliberations  of  the  State,  but  will  not  be 
able  to  disturb  the  principles  of  the  constitution.  Again,  in 
oligarchies  either  the  people  ought  to  accept  the  measures  of 


no  ARISTOTLE 

the  government,  or  not  to  pass  anything  contrary  to  them; 
or,  if  all  are  allowed  to  share  in  counsel,  the  decision  should 
rest  with  the  magistrates.  The  opposite  of  what  is  done  in 
constitutional  governments  should  be  the  rule  in  oligarchies; 
the  veto  of  the  majority  should  be  final,  their  assent  not  final, 
but  the  proposal  should  be  referred  back  to  the  magistrates. 
Whereas  in  constitutional  governments  they  take  the  contrary 
course;  the  few  have  the  negative  not  the  affirmative  power; 
the  affirmation  of  everything  rests  with  the  multitude. 

These,  then,  are  our  conclusions  respecting  the  deliberative, 
that  is,  the  supreme  element  in  States. 

Next  we  will  proceed  to  consider  the  distribution  of  offices ; 
this,  too,  being  a  part  of  politics  concerning  which  many  ques- 
tions arise: — What  shall  their  number  be?  Over  what  shall 
they  preside,  and  what  shall  be  their  duration?  Sometimes 
they  last  for  six  months,  sometimes  for  less;  sometimes  they 
are  annual,  whilst  in  other  cases  offices  are  held  for  still  longer 
periods.  Shall  they  be  for  life  or  for  a  long  term  of  years; 
or,  if  for  a  short  term  only,  shall  the  same  persons  hold  them 
over  and  over  again,  or  once  only?  Also  about  the  appoint- 
ment to  them — from  whom  are  they  to  be  chosen,  by  whom, 
and  how?  We  should  first  be  in  a  position  to  say  what  are 
the  possible  varieties  of  them,  and  then  we  may  proceed  to 
determine  which  are  suited  to  different  forms  of  government. 
But  what  are  to  be  included  under  the  term  "  offices  "  ?  That 
is  a  question  not  quite  so  easily  answered.  For  a  political  com- 
munity requires  many  officers ;  and  not  everyone  who  is  chosen 
by  vote  or  by  lot  is  to  be  regarded  as  a  ruler.  In  the  first  place 
there  are  the  priests,  who  must  be  distinguished  from  political 
officers ;  masters  of  choruses  and  heralds,  even  ambassadors, 
are  elected  by  vote  [but  still  they  are  not  political  officers]. 
Some  duties  of  superintendence  again  are  political,  extending 
either  to  all  the  citizens  in  a  single  sphere  of  action,  like  the 
office  of  the  general  who  superintends  them  when  they  are 
in  the  field,  or  to  a  section  of  them  only,  like  the  inspector- 
ships of  women  or  of  youth.  Other  offices  are  concerned  with 
household  management,  like  that  of  the  corn  measurers  who 
exist  in  many  States  and  are  elected  officers.  There  are  also 
menial  offices  which  the  rich  have  executed  by  their  slaves. 
Speaking  generally,  they  are  to  be  called  offices  to  which  the 
duties  are  assigned  of  deliberating  about  certain  measures  and 


THE  POLITICS  m 

of  judging  and  commanding,  especially  the  last ;  for  to  com- 
mand is  the  especial  duty  of  a  magistrate.  But  the  question  is 
not  of  any  importance  in  practice;  no  one  has  ever  brought 
into  court  the  meaning  of  the  word,  although  such  problems 
have  a  speculative  interest. 

What  kinds  of  offices,  and  how  many,  are  necessary  to  the 
existence  of  a  State,  and  which,  if  not  necessary,  yet  conduce 
to  its  well-being,  are  much  more  important  considerations, 
affecting  all  States,  but  more  especially  small  ones.  For  in 
great  States  it  is  possible,  and  indeed  necessary,  that  every 
office  should  have  a  special  function;  where  the  citizens  are 
numerous,  many  may  hold  office.  And  so  it  happens  that 
vacancies  occur  in  some  offices  only  after  long  intervals,  or  the 
office  is  held  once  only;  and  certainly  every  work  is  better 
done  which  receives  the  sole,  and  not  the  divided,  attention 
of  the  worker.  But  in  small  States  it  is  necessary  to  combine 
many  offices  in  a  few  hands,  since  the  small  number  of  citizens 
does  not  admit  of  many  holding  office : — for  who  will  there  be 
to  succeed  them?  And  yet  small  States  at  times  require  the 
same  offices  and  laws  as  large  ones ;  the  difference  is  that  the 
one  want  them  often,  the  others  only  after  long  intervals. 
Hence  there  is  no  reason  why  the  care  of  many  offices  should 
not  be  imposed  on  the  same  person,  for  they  will  not  interfere 
with  each  other.  When  the  population  is  small,  offices  should 
be  like  the  spits  which  also  serve  to  hold  a  lamp.  We  must 
first  ascertain  how  many  magistrates  are  necessary  in  every 
State,  and  also  how  many  are  not  exactly  necessary,  but  are 
nevertheless  useful,  and  then  there  will  be  no  difficulty  in 
judging  what  offices  can  be  combined  in  one.  We  should  also 
know  when  local  tribunals  ought  to  have  jurisdiction  over 
many  different  matters,  and  when  authority  should  be  central- 
ized :  for  example,  should  one  person  keep  order  in  the  market 
and  another  in  some  other  place,  or  should  the  same  person 
be  responsible  everywhere?  Again,  should  offices  be  divided 
according  to  the  subjects  with  which  they  deal,  or  according  to 
the  persons  with  whom  they  deal :  I  mean  to  say,  should  one 
person  see  to  good  order  in  general,  or  one  look  after  the  boys, 
another  after  the  women,  and  so  on  ?  Further,  under  different 
constitutions,  should  the  magistrates  be  the  same  or  different? 
For  example,  in  democracy,  oligarchy,  aristocracy,  monarchy, 
should  there  be  the  same  magistrates,  although  they  are  elected. 


113 


ARISTOTLE 


not  out  of  equal  or  similar  classes  of  citizens,  but  differently 
under  different  constitutions — in  aristocracies,  for  example, 
they  are  chosen  from  the  educated,  in  oligarchies  from  the 
wealthy,  and  in  democracies  from  the  free — or  are  there  differ- 
ent offices  proper  to  different  constitutions,  and  may  the  same 
be  suitable  to  some,  but  unsuitable  to  others?  For  in  some 
States  it  may  be  convenient  that  the  same  office  should  have 
a  more  extensive,  in  other  States  a  narrower  sphere.  Special 
offices  are  peculiar  to  certain  forms  of  government: — for  ex- 
ample [to  oligarchies]  that  of  probnli,  which  is  not  a  demo- 
cratic office,  although  a  boule,  or  council,  is.  There  must  be 
some  body  of  men  whose  duty  is  to  prepare  measures  for  the 
people  in  order  that  they  may  not  be  diverted  from  their  busi- 
ness ;  when  these  ar-^  few  in  number,  the  State  inclines  to  an 
oligarchy:  or  rather  the  prohuli  must  always  be  few,  and  are 
therefore  an  oligarchical  element.  But  when  both  institutions 
exist  in  a  State,  the  prohuli  are  a  check  on  the  council ;  for  the 
counsellor  is  a  democratic  element,  but  the  prohuli  are  oli- 
garchical. Even  the  power  of  the  council  disappears  when 
democracy  has  taken  that  extreme  form,  in  which  the  people 
themselves  are  always  meeting  and  deliberating  about  every- 
thing. This  is  the  case  when  the  members  of  the  assembly 
are  wealthy  or  receive  pay;  for  they  have  nothing  to  do  and 
are  always  holding  assemblies  and  deciding  everything  for 
themselves.  A  magistracy  which  controls  the  boys  or  the 
women,  or  any  similar  office,  is  suited  to  an  aristocracy  rather 
than  to  a  democracy ;  for  how  can  the  magistrates  prevent 
the  wives  of  the  poor  from  going  out  of  doors?  Neither  is  it 
an  oligarchical  office;  for  the  wives  of  the  oligarchs  are  too 
fine  to  be  controlled. 

Enough  of  these  matters.  I  will  now  inquire  into  the  ap- 
pointment of  offices.  There  are  three  questions  to  be  answered, 
and  the  combinations  of  answers  give  all  possible  differences: 
first,  who  appoints  ?  secondly,  from  whom  ?  and  thirdly,  how  ? 
Each  of  these  three  may  further  differ  in  three  ways :  ( i ) 
All  the  citizens,  or  only  some,  appoint;  (2)  Either  the  magis- 
trates are  chosen  out  of  all  or  out  of  some  who  are  distin- 
guished either  by  a  property  qualification,  or  by  birth,  or  merit, 
or  for  some  special  reason,  as  at  Megara  only  those  were  eligible 
who  had  returned  from  exile  and  fought  together  against 
the  democracy;    (3)  They  may  be  appointed  either  by  vote  or 


-^HE   POLITICS  XI3 

by  lot.  Again,  these  several  modes  may  be  combined,  I  mean 
that  some  officers  may  be  elected  by  some,  others  by  all,  and 
some  again  out  of  some,  and  others  out  of  all,  and  some  by 
vote  and  others  by  lot.  Each  of  these  differences  admits  of 
four  variations.  ( i )  Either  all  may  elect  out  of  all  by  vote,  01 
all  out  of  all  by  lot;  and  either  out  of  all  collectively  or  by 
sections,  as,  for  example,  by  tribes,  and  wards,  and  phratries, 
until  all  the  citizens  have  been  gone  through ;  or  the  citizens 
may  be  in  all  cases  eligible  indiscriminately,  and  in  some  cases 
they  may  be  elected  by  vote,  and  in  some  by  lot.  Again  (2), 
if  only  some  appoint,  they  may  appoint  out  of  all  by  vote,  or 
out  of  all  by  lot ;  or  out  of  some  by  vote,  out  of  some  by  lot, 
and  some  officers  may  be  appointed  in  one  way  and  some  in 
another,  I  mean  if  they  are  appointed  by  all  they  may  be  ap- 
pointed partly  by  vote  and  partly  by  lot.  Thus  there  will  be 
twelve  forms  of  appointment  without  including  the  two  com- 
binations in  the  mode  of  election.  Of  these  varieties  two  are 
democratic  forms,  namely,  when  the  choice  is  made  by  all  the 
people  out  of  all  by  vote  or  by  lot,  or  by  both,  that  is  to  say, 
some  by  lot  and  some  by  vote.  The  cases  in  which  they  do  not 
all  appoint  at  one  time,  but  some  appoint  out  of  all  or  out  of 
some  by  vote  or  by  lot  or  by  both  (I  mean  some  by  lot  and 
some  by  vote),  or  some  out  of  all  and  others  out  of  some 
both  by  lot  and  vote,  are  characteristic  of  a  polity  or  constitu- 
tional government.  That  some  should  be  appointed  out  of  all 
by  vote  or  by  lot  or  by  both,  is  oligarchical,  and  still  more  oli- 
garchical when  some  are  elected  from  all  and  some  from  some. 
Th^at  some  should  be  elected  out  of  all  and  some  out  of  some, 
or  again  some  by  vote  and  others  by  lot,  is  characteristic  of  a 
constitutional  government,  which  inclines  to  an  aristocracy. 
That  some  should  be  chosen  out  of  some,  and  some  taken  by 
lot  out  of  some,  is  oligarchical  though  not  equally  oligarchical ; 
oligarchical,  too,  is  the  appointment  of  some  out  of  some  in 
both  ways,  and  of  some  out  of  all.  But  that  all  should  elect 
by  vote  out  of  some  is  aristocratical. 

These  are  the  different  ways  of  constituting  magistrates, 
and  in  this  manner  officers  correspond  to  different  forms  of 
government: — which  are  proper  to  which,  or  how  they  ought 
to  be  established,  will  be  evident  when  we  determine  the  nature 
of  their  powers.  By  powers  I  mean  such  power  as  a  magistrate 
exercises  over  the  revenue  or  in  defence  of  the  country;  for 
8 


114 


ARISTOTLE 


there  are  various  kinds  of  power:  the  power  of  the  general, 
for  example,  is  not  the  same  with  that  which  regulates  con- 
tracts in  the  market. 

Of  the  three  parts  of  government,  the  judicial  remains  to  be 
considered,  and  this  we  shall  divide  on  the  same  principle. 
Tliere  are  three  points  on  which  the  varieties  of  law  courts 
depend : — The  persons  from  whom  they  are  appointed,  the 
matters  wath  which  they  are  concerned,  and  the  manner  of 
their  appointment.  I  mean,  (i)  are  the  judges  taken  from  all, 
or  from  some  only?  (2)  how  many  kinds  of  law  courts  are 
there?    (3)  are  the  judges  chosen  by  vote  or  by  lot? 

First,  let  me  determine  how  many  kinds  of  law  courts  there 
are.  They  are  eight  in  number :  One  is  the  court  of  audits  or 
scrutinies;  a  second  takes  cognizance  of  [ordinary]  offences 
against  the  State ;  a  third  is  concerned  with  treason  against  the 
government;  the  fourth  determines  disputes  respecting  penal- 
ties, whether  raised  by  magistrates  or  by  private  persons ;  the 
fifth  decides  the  more  important  civil  cases  ;  the  sixth  tries  cases 
of  homicide,  which  are  of  various  kinds,  (i)  premeditated,  (2) 
unpremeditated,  (3)  cases  in  which  the  guilt  is  confessed  but 
the  justice  is  disputed;  and  there  may  be  a  fourth  court  (4)  in 
which  murderers  who  have  fled  from  justice  are  tried  after 
their  return;  such  as  the  Court  of  Phreatto  is  said  to  be  at 
Athens.  But  cases  of  this  sort  rarely  happen  at  all  even  in  large 
cities.  The  different  kinds  of  homicide  may  be  tried  either  by 
the  same  or  by  different  courts.  (7)  There  are  courts  for 
strangers: — of  these  there  are  two  subdivisions,  (i)  for  the 
settlement  of  their  disputes  with  one  another,  (2)  for  the  set- 
tlement of  disputes  between  them  and  the  citizens.  And  be- 
sides all  these  there  must  be  (8)  courts  for  small  suits  about 
sums  of  a  drachma  up  to  five  drachmas,  or  a  little  more,  which 
have  to  be  determined,  but  they  do  not  require  many  judges. 

Nothing  more  need  be  said  of  these  small  suits,  nor  of  the 
courts  for  homicide  and  for  strangers : — I  would  rather  speak 
of  political  cases,  which,  when  mismanaged,  create  division 
and  disturbances  in  States. 

Now  if  all  the  citizens  judge,  in  all  the  different  cases  which 
I  have  distinguished,  they  may  be  appointed  by  vote  or  by  lot, 
or  sometimes  by  lot  and  sometimes  by  vote.  Or  when  a  cer- 
tain class  of  causes  are  tried,  the  judges  who  decide  them  may 
be  appointed,  some  by  vote,  and  some  by  lot.     These  then  are 


THE  POLITICS  115 

the  four  modes  of  appointing  judges  from  the  whole  people,  and 
there  will  be  likewise  four  modes,  if  they  are  elected  from  a 
part  only ;  for  they  may  be  appointed  from  some  by  vote  and 
judge  in  all  causes ;  or  they  may  be  appointed  from  some  by  lot 
and  judge  in  all  causes ;  or  they  may  be  elected  in  some  cases 
by  vote,  and  in  some  cases  taken  by  lot,  or  some  courts,  even 
when  judging  the  same  causes,  may  be  composed  of  members 
some  appointed  by  vote  and  some  by  lot.  These  then  are  the 
ways  in  which  the  aforesaid  judges  may  be  appointed. 

Once  more,  the  modes  of  appointment  may  be  combined,  I 
mean,  that  some  may  be  chosen  out  of  the  whole  people,  others 
out  of  some,  some  out  of  both ;  for  example,  the  same  tribunal 
may  be  composed  of  some  who  were  elected  out  of  all,  and  of 
others  who  were  elected  out  of  some,  either  by  vote  or  by  lot  or 
by  both. 

In  how  many  forms  law  courts  can  be  established  has  now 
been  considered.  The  first  form,  viz.,  that  in  which  the  judges 
are  taken  from  all  the  citizens,  and  in  which  all  causes  are 
tried,  is  democratical ;  the  second,  which  is  composed  of  a 
few  only  who  try  all  causes,  oligarchical;  the  third,  in  which 
some  courts  are  taken  from  all  classes,  and  some  from  certain 
classes  only,  aristocratical  and  constitutional. 


BOOK  V 

THE  design  which  we  proposed  to  ourselves  is  now  nearly 
completed.  Next  in  order  follow  the  causes  of  revolu- 
tion in  States,  how  many,  and  of  what  nature  they  are ; 
what  elements  work  ruin  in  particular  States,  and  out  of  what, 
and  into  what  they  mostly  change ;  also  what  are  the  elements 
of  preservation  in  States  generally,  or  in  a  particular  State,  and 
by  what  means  each  State  may  be  best  preserved :  these  ques- 
tions remain  to  be  considered. 

In  the  first  place  we  assume  as  our  starting-point  that  in  the 
many  forms  of  government  which  have  sprung  up  there  has 
always  been  an  acknowledgment  of  justice  and  proportionate 
equality,  although  mankind  fail  in  attaining  them,  as  indeed  I 
have  already  explained.  Democracy,  for  example,  arises  out 
of  the  notion  that  those  who  are  equal  in  any  respect  are  equal 
in  all  respects ;  because  men  are  equally  free,  they  claim  to  be 
absolutely  equal.  Oligarchy  is  based  on  the  notion  that  those 
who  are  unequal  in  one  respect  are  in  all  respects  unequal ;  being 
unequal,  that  is,  in  property,  they  suppose  themselves  to  be  un- 
equal absolutely.  The  democrats  think  that  as  they  are  equal 
they  ought  to  be  equal  in  all  things ;  while  the  oligarchs,  under 
the  idea  that  they  are  unequal,  claim  too  much,  which  is  one 
form  of  inequality.  All  these  forms  of  government  have  a 
kind  of  justice,  but,  tried  by  an  absolute  standard,  they  are 
faulty ;  and,  therefore,  both  parties,  whenever  their  share  in  the 
government  does  not  accord  with  their  preconceived  ideas, 
stir  up  revolution.  Those  who  excel  in  virtue  have  the  best 
right  of  all  to  rebel  (for  they  alone  can  with  reason  be  deemed 
absolutely  unequal),  but  then  they  are  of  all  men  the  least  in- 
clined to  do  so.  There  is  also  a  superiority  which  is  claimed 
by  men  of  rank ;  for  they  are  thought  noble  because  they  spring 
from  wealthy  and  virtuous  ancestors.  Here  then,  so  to  speak, 
are  opened  the  very  springs  and  fountains  of  revolution ;  and 
hence  arise  two  sorts  of  changes  in  governments;  the  one 

Ii6 


THE  POLITICS  117 

affecting  the  constitution,  when  men  seek  to  change  from  an 
existing  form  into  some  other,  for  example,  from  democracy 
into  oligarchy,  and  from  oligarchy  into  democracy,  or  from 
either  of  them  into  constitutional  government  or  aristocracy, 
and  conversely ;  the  other  not  affecting  the  constitution,  when, 
without  disturbing  the  form  of  government,  whether  oligarchy, 
or  monarchy,  or  any  other,  they  try  to  get  the  administration 
into  their  own  hands.  Further,  there  is  a  question  of  degree ; 
an  oligarchy,  for  example,  may  become  more  or  less  oligarchical, 
and  a  democracy  more  or  less  democratical ;  and  in  like  manner 
the  characteristics  of  the  other  forms  of  government  may  be 
more  or  less  strictly  maintained.  Or,  the  revolution  may  be 
directed  against  a  portion  of  the  constitution  only,  e.g.  the 
establishment  or  overthrow  of  a  particular  office :  as  at  Sparta 
it  is  said  that  Lysander  attempted  to  overthrow  the  monarchy, 
and  King  Pausanias,  the  ephoralty.  At  Epidamnus,  too,  the 
change  was  partial.  For  instead  of  phylarchs  or  heads  of  tribes, 
a  council  was  appointed ;  but  to  this  day  the  magistrates  are  the 
only  members  of  the  ruling  class  who  are  compelled  to  go  to 
the  Heliasa  when  an  election  takes  place,  and  the  office  of  the 
single  archon  [survives,  which]  is  another  oligarchical  feature. 
Everywhere  inequality  is  a  cause  of  revolution,  but  an  in- 
equality in  which  there  is  no  proportion,  for  instance,  a  per- 
petual monarchy  among  equals ;  and  always  it  is  the  desire 
of  equality  which  rises  in  rebellion. 

Now  equality  is  of  two  kinds,  numerical  and  proportional; 
by  the  first  I  mean  sameness  or  equality  in  number  or  size ;  by 
the  second,  equality  of  ratios.  For  example,  the  excess  of  three 
over  two  is  equal  to  the  excess  of  two  over  one ;  whereas  four 
exceeds  two  in  the  same  ratio  in  which  two  exceeds  one,  for 
two  is  the  same  part  of  four  that  one  is  of  two,  namely,  the 
half.  As  I  was  saying  before,  men  agree  about  justice  in  the 
abstract,  but  they  differ  about  proportion ;  some  think  that  if 
they  are  equal  in  any  respect  they  are  equal  absolutely,  others 
that  if  they  are  unequal  in  any  respect  they  are  unequal  in  all. 
Hence  there  are  two  principal  forms  of  government,  democ- 
racy and  oligarchy;  for  good  birth  and  virtue  are  rare,  but 
wealth  and  numbers  are  more  common.  In  what  city  shall  we 
find  a  hundred  persons  of  good  birth  and  of  virtue?  whereas 
the  poor  everywhere  aboimd.  That  a  State  should  be  ordered, 
simply  and  wholly,  according  to  either  kind  of  equality,  is  not 


ii8  ARISTOTLE 

a  good  thing ;  the  proof  is  the  fact  that  such  forms  of  govern- 
ment never  last.  They  are  originally  based  on  a  mistake,  and, 
as  they  begin  badly,  cannot  fail  to  end  badly.  The  inference  is 
that  both  kinds  of  equality  should  be  employed;  numerical  in 
some  cases,  and  proportionate  in  others. 

Still  democracy  appears  to  be  safer  and  less  liable  to  revolu- 
tion than  oligarchy.  For  in  oligarchies  there  is  the  double 
danger  of  the  oligarchs  falling  out  among  themselves  and  also 
with  the  people;  but  in  democracies  there  is  only  the  danger 
of  a  quarrel  with  the  oligarchs.  No  dissension  worth  men- 
tioning arises  among  the  people  themselves.  And  we  may 
further  remark  that  a  government  which  is  composed  of  the 
middle  class  more  nearly  approximates  to  democracy  than  to 
oligarchy,  and  is  the  safest  of  the  imperfect  forms  of  govern- 
ment. 

In  considering  how  dissensions  and  political  revolutions 
arise,  we  must  first  of  all  ascertain  the  beginnings  and  causes 
of  them  which  affect  constitutions  generally.  They  may  be 
said  to  be  three  in  number ;  and  we  have  now  to  give  an  outline 
of  each.  We  want  to  know  (i)  what  is  the  feeling?  and  (2) 
what  are  the  motives  of  those  who  make  them?  (3)  whence 
arise  political  disturbances  and  quarrels?  The  universal  and 
chief  cause  of  this  revolutionary  feeling  has  been  already  men- 
tioned ;  viz.  the  desire  of  equality,  when  men  think  that  they  are 
equal  to  others  who  have  more  than  themselves ;  or,  again,  the 
desire  of  inequality  and  superiority,  when  conceiving  them- 
selves to  be  superior  they  think  that  they  have  not  more  but 
the  same  or  less  than  their  inferiors;  pretensions  which  may 
and  may  not  be  just.  Inferiors  revolt  in  order  that  they  may 
be  equal,  and  equals  that  they  may  be  superior.  Such  is  the 
state  of  mind  which  creates  revolutions.  The  motives  for  mak- 
ing them  are  the  desire  of  gain  and  honor,  or  the  fear  of  dis- 
honor and  loss ;  the  authors  of  them  want  to  divert  punishment 
or  dishonor  from  themselves  or  their  friends.  The  causes  and 
reasons  of  these  motives  and  dispositions  which  are  excited  in 
men,  about  the  things  which  I  have  mentioned,  viewed  in  one 
way,  may  be  regarded  as  seven,  and  in  another  as  more  than 
seven.  Two  of  them  have  been  already  noticed ;  but  they  act 
in  a  different  manner,  for  men  are  excited  against  one  another 
by  the  love  of  gain  and  honor — not,  as  in  the  case  which  I  have 
just  supposed,  in  order  to  obtain  them  for  themselves,  but  at 


THE  POLITICS  119 

seeing  others,  justly  or  unjustly,  engrossing  them.  Other 
causes  are  insolence,  fear,  love  of  superiority,  contempt,  dis- 
proportionate increase  in  some  part  of  the  State ;  causes  of  an- 
other sort  are  election  intrigues,  carelessness,  neglect  about 
trifles,  dissimilarity  of  elements. 

What  share  insolence  and  avarice  have  in  creating  revolu- 
tions, and  how  they  work,  is  plain  enough.  When  the  magis- 
trates are  insolent  and  grasping  they  conspire  against  one  an- 
other and  also  against  the  constitution  from  which  they  derive 
their  power,  making  their  gains  either  at  the  expense  of  indi- 
viduals or  of  the  public.  It  is  evident,  again,  what  an  influence 
honor  exerts  and  how  it  is  a  cause  of  revolution.  Men  who  are 
themselves  dishonored  and  who  see  others  obtaining  honors  rise 
in  rebellion ;  the  honor  or  dishonor  when  undeserved  is  unjust ; 
and  just  when  awarded  according  to  merit.  Again,  superiority 
is  a  cause  of  revolution  when  one  or  more  persons  have  a 
power  which  is  too  much  for  the  State  and  the  power  of  the 
government ;  this  is  a  condition  of  affairs  out  of  which  there 
arises  a  monarchy,  or  a  family  oligarchy.  And,  therefore,  in 
sorae  places,  as  at  Athens  and  Argos,  they  have  recourse  to 
ostracism.  But  how  much  better  to  provide  from  the  first  that 
there  should  be  no  such  pre-eminent  individuals  instead  of 
letting  them  come  into  existence  and  then  finding  a  remedy  ? 

Another  cause  of  revolution  is  fear.  Either  men  have  com- 
mitted wrong,  and  are  afraid  of  punishment,  or  they  are  ex- 
pecting to  suffer  wrong  and  are  desirous  of  anticipating  their 
enemy.  Thus  at  Rhodes  the  notables  conspired  against  the 
people  through  fear  of  the  suits  that  were  brought  against  them. 
Contempt  is  also  a  cause  of  insurrection  and  revolution ;  for  ex- 
ample, in  oligarchies — when  those  who  have  no  share  in  the 
State  are  the  majority,  they  revolt,  because  they  think  that  they 
are  the  stronger.  Or,  again,  in  democracies,  the  rich  despise 
the  disorder  and  anarchy  of  the  State ;  at  Thebes,  for  example, 
where,  after  the  battle  of  CEnophyta,  the  bad  administration  of 
the  democracy  led  to  its  ruin.  At  Megara  the  fall  of  the  de- 
mocracy was  due  to  a  defeat  occasioned  by  disorder  and  anarchy. 
And  at  Syracuse  the  democracy  was  overthrown  before  the 
tyranny  of  Gelo  arose ;  at  Rhodes  before  the  insurrection. 

Political  revolutions  also  spring  from  a  disproportionate  in- 
crease in  any  part  of  the  State.  For  as  a  body  is  made  up  of 
many  members,  and  every  member  ought  to  grow  in  propor- 


I20 


ARISTOTLE 


tion,  that  symmetry  may  be  preserved ;  but  loses  its  nature  if 
the  foot  be  four  cubits  long  and  the  rest  of  the  body  two  spans ; 
and,  should  the  abnormal  increase  be  one  of  quality  as  well  as 
of  quantity,  may  even  take  the  form  of  another  animal :  even  so 
a  State  has  many  parts  of  which  some  one  may  often  grow  im- 
perceptibly; for  example,  the  number  of  poor  in  democracies 
and  in  constitutional  States.  And  this  disproportion  may  some- 
times happen  by  an  accident,  as  at  Tarentum,  from  a  defeat  in 
which  many  of  the  notables  were  slain  in  a  battle  with  the  lapy- 
gians  just  after  the  Persian  War,  the  constitutional  government 
in  consequence  becoming  a  democracy ;  or,  as  was  the  case  at 
Argos,  where,  after  the  battle  at  Hebdome,  the  Argives,  after 
their  army  had  been  cut  to  pieces  by  Cleomenes  the  Lacedaemo- 
nian, were  compelled  to  admit  to  citizenship  some  of  their 
Perioeci;  and  at  Athens,  when,  after  frequent  defeats  of  their 
infantry  in  the  times  of  the  Peloponnesian  War,  the  notables 
were  reduced  in  number,  because  the  soldiers  had  to  be  taken 
from  the  roll  of  citizens.  Revolutions  arise  from  this  cause  in 
democracies  as  well  as  in  other  forms  of  government,  but  not 
to  so  great  an  extent.  When  the  rich  grow  numerous  or  prop- 
erties increase,  the  form  of  government  changes  into  an  oligar- 
chy or  a  government  of  families.  Forms  of  government  also 
change — sometimes  even  without  revolution,  owing  to  election 
contests,  as  at  Heraea  (where,  instead  of  electing  their  magis- 
trates, they  took  them  by  lot,  because  the  electors  were  in  the 
habit  of  choosing  their  own  partisans)  ;  or  owing  to  careless- 
ness, when  disloyal  persons  are  allowed  to  find  their  way  into 
the  highest  offices,  as  at  Oreus,  where,  upon  the  accession  of  He- 
racleodorus  to  office  the  oligarchy  was  overthrown,  and  changed 
by  him  into  a  constitutional  and  democratical  government. 

Again,  the  revolution  may  be  accomplished  by  small  degrees : 
I  mean  that  a  great  change  may  sometimes  slip  into  the  con- 
stitution through  neglect  of  a  small  matter;  at  Ambracia,  for 
instance,  the  qualification  for  office,  small  at  first,  was  eventu- 
ally reduced  to  nothing.  For  the  Ambraciots  thought  that  a 
small  qualification  was  much  the  same  as  none  at  all. 

Another  cause  of  revolution  is  difference  of  races  which  do 
not  at  once  acquire  a  common  spirit ;  for  a  State  is  not  the 
growth  of  a  day,  neither  is  it  a  multitude  brought  together  by 
accident.  Hence  the  reception  of  strangers  in  colonies,  either 
at  the  time  of  their  foundation  or  afterwards,  has  generally 


THE  POLITICS  121 

produced  revolution ;  for  example,  the  Achaeans  who  joined  the 
Troezenians  in  the  foundation  of  Sybaris,  being  the  more  nu- 
merous, afterwards  expelled  them;  hence  the  curse  fell  upon 
Sybaris.  At  Thurii  the  Sybarites  quarrelled  with  their  fellow- 
colonists  ;  thinking  that  the  land  belonged  to  them,  they  wanted 
too  much  of  it  and  were  driven  out.  At  Byzantium  the  new 
colonists  were  detected  in  a  conspiracy,  and  were  expelled  by 
force  of  arms;  the  people  of  Antissa,  who  had  received  the 
Chian  exiles,  fought  with  them,  and  drove  them  out ;  and  the 
Zancleans,  after  having  received  the  Samians,  were  driven  by 
them  out  of  their  own  city.  The  citizens  of  Apollonia  on  the 
Euxine,  after  the  introduction  of  a  fresh  body  of  colonists,  had 
a  revolution;  the  Syracusans,  after  the  expulsion  of  their 
tyrants,  having  admitted  strangers  and  mercenaries  to  the 
rights  of  citizenship,  quarrelled  and  came  to  blows ;  the  people 
of  Amphipolis,  having  received  Chalcidian  colonists,  were 
nearly  all  expelled  by  them. 

Now,  in  oligarchies  the  masses  make  revolution  under  the 
idea  that  they  are  unjustly  treated,  because,  as  I  said  before, 
they  are  equals,  and  have  not  an  equal  share,  and  in  democracies 
the  notables  revolt,  because  they  are  not  equals,  and  yet  have 
only  an  equal  share. 

Again,  the  situation  of  cities  is  a  cause  of  revolution  when 
the  country  is  not  naturally  adapted  to  preserve  the  unity  of 
the  State.  For  example,  the  Chytrians  at  Clazomenae  did  not 
agree  with  the  people  of  the  island ;  and  the  people  of  Colophon 
quarrelled  with  the  Notians ;  at  Athens,  too,  the  inhabitants  of 
the  Piraeus  are  more  democratic  than  those  who  live  in  the  city. 
For  just  as  in  war,  the  impediment  of  a  ditch,  though  ever  so 
small,  may  break  a  regiment,  so  every  cause  of  difference,  how- 
ever slight,  makes  a  breach  in  a  city.  The  greatest  opposition 
is  confessedly  that  of  virtue  and  vice ;  next  comes  that  of  wealth 
and  poverty ;  and  there  are  other  antagonistic  elements,  greater 
or  less,  of  which  one  is  this  difference  of  place. 

In  revolutions  the  occasions  may  be  trifling,  but  great  inter- 
ests are  at  stake.  Trifles  are  most  important  when  they  concern 
the  rulers,  as  was  the  case  of  old  at  Syracuse ;  for  the  Syracusan 
constitution  was  once  changed  by  a  love-quarrel  of  two  young 
men,  who  were  in  the  government.  The  story  is  that  while  one 
of  them  was  away  from  home  his  beloved  was  gained  over  by 
his  companion,  and  he  to  revenge  himself  seduced  the  other's 


izj  ARISTOTLE 

wife.  They  then  drew  all  the  members  of  the  ruling  class  into 
their  quarrel  and  made  a  revolution.  We  learn  from  this  story 
that  we  should  be  on  our  guard  against  the  beginnings  of  such 
evils,  and  should  put  an  end  to  the  quarrels  of  chiefs  and  mighty 
men.  The  mistake  lies  in  the  beginning — as  the  proverb  says 
— "  Well  begun  is  half  done  " ;  so  an  error  at  the  beginning, 
though  quite  small,  has  the  proportion  of  a  half  to  the  whole 
matter.  In  general,  when  the  notables  quarrel,  the  whole  city 
is  involved,  as  happened  in  Hestiaea  after  the  Persian  War. 
The  occasion  was  the  division  of  an  inheritance;  one  of  two 
brothers  refused  to  give  an  account  of  their  father's  property 
and  the  treasure  which  he  had  found :  so  the  poorer  of  the  two 
quarrelled  with  him  and  enlisted  in  his  cause  the  popular  party, 
the  other^  who  was  very  rich,  the  wealthy  classes. 

At  Delphi,  again,  a  quarrel  about  a  marriage  was  the  begin- 
ning of  all  the  troubles  which  followed.  In  this  case  the  bride- 
groom, fancying  some  occurrence  to  be  of  evil  omen,  came  to 
the  bride,  and  wxnt  away  without  taking  her.  Whereupon  her 
relations,  thinking  that  they  were  insulted  by  him,  put  some  of 
the  sacred  treasure  [among  his  offerings]  while  he  was  sacri- 
ficing, and  then  slew  him,  pretending  that  he  had  been  robbing 
the  temple.  At  Mitylene,  too,  a  dispute  about  heiresses  was 
the  beginning  of  many  misfortunes,  and  led  to  the  war  with 
the  Athenians  in  which  Paches  took  their  city.  A  wealthy 
citizen,  named  Timophanes,  left  two  daughters ;  Doxander,  an- 
other citizen,  wanted  to  obtain  them  for  his  sons ;  but  he  was 
rejected  in  his  suit,  whereupon  he  stirred  up  a  revolution,  and 
instigated  the  Athenians  (of  whom  he  was  proxenus)  to  inter- 
fere. A  similar  quarrel  about  an  heiress  arose  at  Phocis  be- 
tween Mnaseas  the  father  of  Mnason,  and  Euthycrates  the 
father  of  Onomarchus ;  this  was  the  beginning  of  the  Sacred 
War.  A  marriage-quarrel  was  also  the  cause  of  a  change  in 
the  government  of  Epidamnus.  A  certain  man  betrothed  his 
daughter  secretly  to  a  person  whose  father,  having  been  made 
a, magistrate,  fined  the  father  of  the  girl,  and  the  latter,  stung 
by  the  insult,  conspired  wath  the  unenfranchised  classes  to  over- 
throw the  State. 

Governments  also  change  into  oligarchy  or  into  democracy 
or  into  a  constitutional  government  because  the  magistrates,  or 
some  other  section  of  the  State,  increase  in  power  or  renown. 
Thus  at  Athens  the  reputation  gained  by  the  court  of  the  Areop- 


THE   POLITICS  123 

agus,  in  the  Persian  War,  seemed  to  tighten  the  reins  of  gov- 
ernment. On  the  other  hand,  the  victory  of  Salamis,  which  was 
gained  by  the  common  people  who  served  in  the  fleet,  and  won 
for  the  Athenians  the  empire  of  the  sea,  strengthened  the  de- 
mocracy. At  Argos,  the  notables,  having  distinguished  them- 
selves against  the  Lacedaemonians  in  the  battle  of  Mantinea,  at- 
tempted to  put  down  the  democracy.  At  Syracuse,  the  people 
having  been  the  chief  authors  of  the  victory  in  the  war  with 
the  Athenians,  changed  the  constitutional  government  into  de- 
mocracy. At  Chalcis,  the  people,  uniting  with  the  notables, 
killed  Phoxus  the  tyrant,  and  then  seized  the  government.  At 
Ambracia,  the  people,  in  like  manner,  having  joined  with  the 
conspirators  in  expelling  the  tyrant  Periander,  transferred  the 
government  to  themselves.  And  generally,  it  should  be  re- 
membered that  those  who  have  secured  power  to  the  State, 
whether  private  citizens,  or  magistrates,  or  tribes,  or  any  other 
part  or  section  of  the  State,  are  apt  to  cause  revolutions.  For 
either  envy  of  their  greatness  draws  others  into  rebellion,  or 
they  themselves,  in  their  pride  of  superiority,  are  unwilling  to 
remain  on  a  level  with  others. 

Revolutions  break  out  when  opposite  parties,  e.g.,  the  rich 
and  the  poor,  are  equally  balanced,  and  there  is  little  or  nothing 
between  them ;  for,  if  either  party  were  manifestly  superior, 
the  other  would  not  risk  an  attack  upon  them.  And,  for  this 
reason,  those  who  are  eminent  in  virtue  do  not  stir  up  insurrec- 
tions, being  always  a  minority.  Such  are  the  beginnings  and 
causes  of  the  disturbances  and  revolutions  to  which  every  form 
of  government  is  liable. 

Revolutions  are  effected  in  two  ways,  by  force  and  by  fraud. 
Force  may  be  applied  either  at  the  time  of  making  the  revolu- 
tion or  afterwards.  Fraud,  again,  is  of  two  kinds;  for  (i) 
sometimes  the  citizens  are  deceived  into  a  change  of  govern- 
ment, and  afterwards  they  are  held  in  subjection  against  their 
will.  This  was  what  happened  in  the  case  of  the  Four  Hun- 
dred, who  deceived  the  people  by  telling  them  that  the  King 
would  provide  money  for  the  war  against  the  Lacedaemonians, 
and  when  the  deception  was  over,  still  endeavored  to  retain  the 
government.  (2)  In  other  cases  the  people  are  persuaded  at 
first,  and  afterwards,  by  a  repetition  of  the  persuasion,  their 
goodwill  and  allegiance  are  retained.  The  revolutions  which 
affect  constitutions  generally  spring  from  the  above-mentioned 
causes. 


124 


ARISTOTLE 


And  now,  taking  each  constitution  separately,  we  must  see 
what  follows  from  the  principles  already  laid  down. 

Revolutions  in  democracies  are  generally  caused  by  the  in- 
temperance of  demagogues,  who  either  in  their  private  capacity 
lay  information  against  rich  men  until  they  compel  them  to 
combine  (for  a  common  danger  unites  even  the  bitterest  ene- 
mies), or  coming  forward  in  public  they  stir  up  the  people 
against  them.  The  truth  of  this  remark  is  proved  by  a  variety 
of  examples.  At  Cos  the  democracy  was  overthrown  because 
wicked  demagogues  arose,  and  the  notables  combined.  At 
Rhodes  the  demagogues  not  only  provided  pay  for  the  multi- 
tude, but  prevented  them  from  making  good  to  the  trierarchs 
the  sums  which  had  been  expended  by  them;  and  they,  in 
consequence  of  the  suits  which  were  brought  against  them, 
were  compelled  to  combine  and  put  down  the  democracy.  The 
democracy  at  Heraclea  was  overthrown  shortly  after  the 
foundation  of  the  colony  by  the  injustice  of  the  demagogues, 
which  drove  out  the  notables,  who  came  back  in  a  body  and 
put  an  end  to  the  democracy.  Much  in  the  same  manner  the 
democracy  at  Megara  was  overturned ;  there  the  demagogues 
drove  out  many  of  the  notables  in  order  that  they  might  be 
able  to  confiscate  their  property.  At  length  the  exiles,  be- 
coming numerous,  returned,  and  engaging  and  defeating  the 
people,  established  an  oligarchy.  The  same  thing  happened 
with  the  democracy  of  Cyme  which  was  overthrown  by  Thrasy- 
machus.  And  we  may  observe  that  in  most  States  the  changes 
have  been  of  this  character.  For  sometimes  the  demagogues, 
in  order  to  curry  favor  with  the  people,  wrong  the  notables  and 
so  force  them  to  combine; — either  they  make  a  division  of 
their  property,  or  diminish  their  incomes  by  the  imposition  of 
public  services,  and  sometimes  they  bring  accusations  against 
the  rich  that  they  may  have  their  wealth  to  confiscate. 

Of  old,  the  demagogue  was  also  a  general,  and  then  de- 
mocracies changed  into  tyrannies.  Most  of  the  ancient  tyrants 
were  originally  demagogues.o  They  are  not  so  now,  but  they 
were  then ;  and  the  reason  is  that  they  were  generals  and  not 
orators,  for  oratory  had  not  yet  come  into  fashion.  Whereas 
in  our  day,  when  the  art  of  rhetoric  has  made  such  progress, 
the  orators  lead  the  people,  but  their  ignorance  of  military 
matters  prevents  them  from  usurping  power;  at  any  rate 
a  Plato,  Rep.  viii.  565  d. 


THE  POLITICS  125 

instances  to  the  contrary  are  few  and  slight.  Formerly  tyran- 
nies were  more  common  than  they  now  are,  because  great  power 
was  often  placed  in  the  hands  of  individuals ;  thus  a  tyranny 
arose  at  Miletus  out  of  the  office  of  the  Prytanis,  who  had 
supreme  authority  in  many  important  matters.  Moreover,  in 
those  days,  when  cities  were  not  large,  the  people  dwelt  in 
the  fields,  busy  at  their  work;  and  their  chiefs,  if  they  pos- 
sessed any  military  talent,  seized  the  opportunity,  and  winning 
the  confidence  of  the  masses  by  professing  their  hatred  of 
the  wealthy,  they  succeeded  in  obtaining  the  tyranny.  Thus 
at  Athens  Pisistratus  led  a  faction  against  the  men  of  the 
plain,&  and  Theagenes  at  Megara  slaughtered  the  cattle  of  the 
wealthy,  which  he  found  by  the  riverside  where  they  had  put 
them  to  graze.  Dionysius,  again,  was  thought  worthy  of  the 
tyranny  because  he  denounced  Daphnseus  and  the  rich;  his 
enmity  to  the  notables  won  for  him  the  confidence  of  the 
people.  Changes  also  take  place  from  the  ancient  to  the  latest 
form  of  democracy;  for  where  there  is  a  popular  election  of 
the  magistrates  and  no  property  qualification,  the  aspirants 
for  office  get  hold  of  the  people,  and  contrive  at  last  even  to 
set  them  above  the  laws.  A  more  or  less  complete  cure  for  this 
State  of  things  is  for  the  separate  tribes,  and  not  the  whole 
people,  to  elect  the  magistrates. 

These  are  the  principal  causes  of  revolutions  in  democracies. 

There  are  two  patent  causes  of  revolutions  in  oligarchies 
[one  coming  from  without,  the  other  from  within  the  govern- 
ment] :  (i)  First,  when  the  oligarchs  oppress  the  people,  for 
then  anybody  is  good  enough  to  be  their  champion,  especially 
if  he  is  himself  a  member  of  the  oligarchy,  as  Lygdamis  at 
Naxos,  who  afterwards  came  to  be  tyrant.  But  revolutions 
which  commence  outside  the  governing  class  may  be  further 
subdivided.  Sometimes,  when  the  government  is  very  ex- 
clusive, the  revolution  is  brought  about  by  persons  of  the 
wealthy  class  who  are  excluded,  as  happened  at  Massalia  and 
Istros  and  Heraclea,  and  other  cities.  Those  who  had  no  share 
in  the  government  created  a  disturbance,  until  first  the  elder 
brothers,  and  then  the  younger,  were  admitted ;  for  in  some 
places  father  and  son,  in  others  elder  and  younger  brothers, 
do  not  hold  office  together.  At  Massalia  the  oligarchy  became 
more  like  a  constitutional  government,  but  at  Istros  ended  in 
b  See  Herod,  i.  59. 


126  ARISTOTLE 

a  democracy,  and  at  Heraclea  was  enlarged  to  600.  At  Cnidos, 
again,  the  oligarchy  underwent  a  considerable  change.  For 
the  notables  fell  out  amongst  themselves,  because  only  a  few 
shared  in  the  government ;  there  existed  among  them  the  rule 
already  mentioned,  that  father  and  son  could  not  hold  office 
together,  and,  if  there  were  several  brothers,  only  the  eldest 
was  admitted.  The  people  took  advantage  of  the  quarrel,  and 
choosing  one  of  the  notables  to  be  their  leader,  attacked  and 
conquered  the  oligarchs,  who  were  divided,  and  division  is 
always  a  source  of  weakness.  The  city  of  Erythras,  too,  in  old 
times  was  ruled,  and  ruled  well,  by  the  Basilidae,  but  the  people 
took  offence  at  the  narrowness  of  the  oligarchy  and  changed 
the  government. 

(2)  Of  internal  causes  of  revolutions  in  oligarchies  one  is  the 
personal  rivalry  of  the  oligarchs,  which  leads  them  to  play  the 
demagogue.  Now,  the  oligarchical  demagogue  is  of  two  sorts : 
either  (i)  he  practises  upon  the  oligarchs  themselves  (for, 
although  the  oligarchy  are  quite  a  small  number,  there  may  be 
a  demagogue  among  them,  as  at  Athens  the  party  of  Charicles 
predominated  among  the  Thirty,  that  of  Phrynichus  in  the 
Four  Hundred) ;  or  (2)  the  oligarchs  may  play  the  demagogue 
with  the  people.  This  was  the  case  at  Larissa,  where  the 
guardians  of  the  citizens  endeavored  to  gain  over  the  people 
because  they  were  elected  by  them;  and  such  is  the  fate  of 
all  oligarchies  in  which  the  magistrates  are  elected,  as  at  Aby- 
dos,  not  by  the  class  to  which  they  belong,  but  by  the  heavy- 
armed  or  by  the  people,  although  they  may  be  required  to  have 
a  high  qualification,  or  to  be  members  of  a  political  club ;  or, 
again,  where  the  law  courts  are  independent  of  the  government, 
the  oligarchs  flatter  the  people  in  order  to  obtain  a  decision 
in  their  own  favor,  and  so  they  change  the  constitution ;  this 
happened  at  Heraclea  in  Pontus.  Again,  oligarchies  change 
whenever  any  attempt  is  made  to  narrow  them ;  for  then  those 
who  desire  equal  rights  are  compelled  to  call  in  the  people. 
Changes  in  the  oligarchy  also  occur  when  the  oligarchs  waste 
their  private  property  by  extravagant  living;  for  then  they 
want  to  innovate,  and  either  try  to  make  themselves  tyrants, 
or  install  someone  else  in  the  tyranny,  as  Hipparinus  did  Die- 
nysius  at  Syracuse,  and  as  at  Amphipolis  a  man  named  Cleoti- 
mus  introduced  Chalcidian  colonists,  and  when  they  arrived, 
stirred  them  up  against  the  rich.    For  a  like  reason  in  iEgina 


THE   POLITICS  ,  127 

the  person  who  carried  on  the  negotiation  with  Chares  en- 
deavored to  revolutionize  the  State.  Sometimes  a  party  among 
the  oHgarchs  try  to  create  a  poHtical  change;  sometimes  they 
rob  the  treasury,  and  then,  either  the  other  oHgarchs  quarrel 
with  the  thieves,  as  happened  at  ApoUonia  in  Pontus,  or  they 
with  the  other  oligarchs.  But  an  oligarchy  which  is  at  unity 
with  itself  is  not  easily  destroyed  from  within ;  of  this  we  may 
see  an  example  at  Pharsalus,  for  there,  although  the  rulers 
are  few  in  number,  they  govern  a  large  city,  because  they  have 
a  good  understanding  among  themselves. 

Oligarchies,  again,  are  overthrown  when  another  oligarchy 
is  created  within  the  original  one,  that  is  to  say,  when  the 
whole  governing  body  is  small  and  yet  they  do  not  all  share 
in  Ine  highest  offices.  Thus  at  Elis  the  governing  body  was 
a  small  Senate;  and  very  few  ever  found  their  way  into  it, 
because,  although  in  number  ninety,  the  Senators  were  elected 
for  life  and  out  of  certain  families  in  a  manner  similar  to 
the  Lacedaemonian  elders.  Oligarchy  is  liable  to  revolutions 
alike  in  war  and  in  peace ;  in  war  because,  not  being  able  to 
trust  the  people,  the  oligarchs  are  compelled  to  hire  mercena- 
ries, and  the  general  who  is  in  command  of  them  often  ends 
in  becoming  a  tyrant,  as  Timophanes  did  at  Corinth ;  or  if 
there  are  more  generals  than  one  they  make  themselves  into 
a  company  of  tyrants.  Sometimes  the  oligarchs,  fearing  this 
danger,  give  the  people  a  share  in  the  government  because  their 
services  are  necessary  to  them.  And  in  time  of  peace,  from 
mutual  distrust,  the  two  parties  hand  over  the  defence  of  the 
State  to  the  army  and  to  an  arbiter  between  the  two  factions 
who  often  ends  the  master  of  both.  This  happened  at  Larissa 
when  Simos  and  the  Aleuadae  had  the  government,  and  at 
Abydos  in  the  days  of  Iphiades  and  the  political  clubs.  Revolu- 
tions also  arise  out  of  marriages  or  lawsuits  which  lead  to  the 
overthrow  of  one  party  among  the  oHgarchs  by  another.  Of 
quarrels  about  marriages  I  have  already  mentioned  some  in- 
stances; another  occurred  at  Eretria,  where  Diagoras  over- 
turned the  oligarchy  of  the  knights  because  he  had  been 
wronged  about  a  marriage.  A  revolution  at  Heraclea,  and  an- 
other at  Thebes,  both  arose  out  of  decisions  of  law  courts 
upon  a  charge  of  adultery ;  in  both  cases  the  punishment  was 
just,  but  executed  in  the  spirit  of  the  party,  at  Heraclea  upon 
Eurytion,  and  at  Thebes  upon  Archias;    for  their  enemies 


128  ARISTOTLE 

were  jealous  of  them  and  so  had  them  pilloried  in  the  agora. 
Many  oligarchies  have  been  destroyed  by  some  members  of 
the  ruling  class  taking  offence  at  their  excessive  despotism; 
for  example  the  oligarchy  at  Cnidus  and  at  Chios. 

Changes  of  constitutional  governments,  and  also  of  oli- 
garchies which  limit  the  office  of  counsellor,  judge,  or  other 
magistrate  to  persons  having  a  certain  money  qualification, 
often  occur  by  accident.  The  qualification  may  have  been 
originally  fixed  according  to  the  circumstances  of  the  time, 
in  such  a  manner  as  to  include  in  an  oligarchy  a  few  only,  or 
in  a  constitutional  government  the  middle  class.  But  after  a 
time  of  prosperity,  whether  arising  from  peace  or  some  other 
good  fortune,  the  same  property  becomes  many  times  as  large, 
and  then  everybody  participates  in  every  office;  this  happens 
sometimes  gradually  and  insensibly,  and  sometimes  quickly. 
These  are  the  causes  of  changes  and  revolutions  in  oligarchies. 

We  must  remark  generally,  both  of  democracies  and  oli- 
garchies, that  they  sometimes  change,  not  into  the  opposite 
forms  of  government,  but  only  into  another  variety  of  the 
same  class ;  I  mean  to  say,  from  those  forms  of  democracy  and 
oligarchy  which  are  regulated  by  law  into  those  which  are 
arbitrary,  and  conversely. 

In  aristocracies  revolutions  are  stirred  up  when  a  few  only 
share  in  the  honors  of  the  State ;  a  cause  which  has  been 
already  shown  to  affect  oligarchies ;  for  an  aristocracy  is  a 
sort  of  oligarchy,  and,  like  an  oligarchy,  is  the  government  of 
a  few,  although  the  few  are  the  virtuous  and  not  the  wealthy ; 
hence  the  two  are  often  confounded.  And  revolutions  will 
be  most  likely  to  happen,  and  must  happen,  when  the  major- 
ity of  the  people  are  high-spirited,  and  have  a  notion  that 
they  are  as  good  as  their  rulers.  Thus  at  Lacedaemon  the 
so-called  Parthenise,  who  were  the  [illegitimate]  sons  of  the 
Spartan  peers,  attempted  a  revolution,  and,  being  detected, 
were  sent  away  to  colonize  Tarentum.  Again,  revolutions 
occur  when  great  men  who  are  at  least  of  equal  merit  are 
dishonored  by  those  higher  in  office,  as  Lysander  was  by  the 
kings  of  Sparta:  or,  when  a  brave  man  is  excluded  from 
the  honors  of  the  State,  like  Cinadon,  who  conspired  against 
the  Spartans  under  Agesilaus ;  or,  again,  when  some  are  very 
poor  and  others  very  rich,  a  state  of  society  which  is  most 
often  the  result  of  war,  as  at  Lacedaemon  in  the  days  of  the 


THE   POLITICS 


129 


Messenian  War;  this  is  proved  from  the  poem  of  Tyrtaeus, 
entitled  "  Good  Order " ;  for  he  speaks  of  certain  citizens 
who  were  ruined  by  the  war  and  wanted  to  have  a  redistribu- 
tion of  the  land.  Again,  revolutions  arise  when  an  individual 
who  is  great,  and  might  be  greater,  wants  to  rule  alone,  as 
at  Lacedaemon,  Pausanias,  who  was  general  in  the  Persian 
War,  or  like  Hanno  at  Carthage. 

Constitutional  governments  and  aristocracies  are  commonly 
overthrown  owing  to  some  deviation  from  justice  in  the  con- 
stitution itself;  the  cause  of  the  downfall  is,  in  the  former, 
the  ill-mingling  of  the  two  elements,  democracy  and  oligarchy ; 
in  the  latter,  of  the  three  elements,  democracy,  oligarchy,  and 
virtue,  but  especially  democracy  and  oligarchy.  For  to  com- 
bine these  is  the  endeavor  of  constitutional  governments ;  and 
most  of  the  so-called  aristocracies  have  a  like  aim,  but  differ 
from  polities  by  the  addition  of  virtue;  hence  some  of  them 
are  more  and  some  less  permanent.  Those  which  incline  more 
to  oligarchy  are  called  aristocracies,  and  those  which  incline 
to  democracy  constitutional  governments.  And  therefore  the 
latter  are  the  safer  of  the  two ;  for  the  greater  the  number,  the 
greater  the  strength,  and  when  men  are  equal  they  are  con- 
tented. But  the  rich,  if  the  government  gives  them  power,  are 
apt  to  be  insolent  and  avaricious ;  and,  in  general,  whichever 
way  the  constitution  inclines,  in  that  direction  it  changes  as 
either  party  gains  strength,  a  constitutional  government  be- 
coming a  democracy,  an  aristocracy,  an  oligarchy.  But  the 
process  may  be  reversed,  and  aristocracy  may  change  into  de- 
mocracy. This  happens  when  the  poor,  under  the  idea  that 
they  are  being  wronged,  force  the  constitution  to  take  an  op- 
posite form.  In  like  manner  constitutional  governments  change 
into  oligarchies.  The  only  stable  principle  of  government  is 
equality  according  to  proportion,  and  for  every  man  to  enjoy 
his  own. 

What  I  have  just  mentioned  actually  happened  at  Thurii, 
where  the  qualification  for  office,  though  at  first  high,  was 
reduced,  and  the  magistrates  increased  in  number.  The 
notables  had  previously  acquired  the  whole  of  the  land  con- 
trary to  law ;  for  the  government  tended  to  oligarchy,  and 
they  were  able  to  encroach.  But  the  people,  who  had  been 
trained  by  war,  soon  got  the  better  of  the  guards  kept  by  the 
oligarchs,  until  those  who  had  too  much  gave  up  their  land. 

9 


130 


ARISTOTLE 


Again,  since  all  aristocratical  governments  incline  to  oli- 
garchy, the  notables  are  apt  to  be  grasping;  thus  at  Lace- 
daemon,  where  property  has  passed  into  few  hands,  the  notables 
can  do  too  much  as  they  like,  and  are  allowed  to  marry  whom 
they  please.  The  city  of  Locri  was  ruined  by  a  marriage  con- 
nection with  Dionysius,  but  such  a  thing  could  never  have 
happened  in  a  democracy,  or  in  a  well-balanced  aristocracy. 

I  have  already  remarked  that  in  all  States  revolutions  are 
occasioned  by  trifles.  In  aristocracies,  above  all,  they  are  of 
a  gradual  and  imperceptible  nature.  The  citizens  begin  by 
giving  up  some  part  of  the  constitution,  and  so  with  greater 
ease  the  government  change  something  else  which  is  a  little 
more  important,  until  they  have  undermined  the  whole  fabric 
of  the  State.  At  Thurii  there  was  a  law  that  generals  should 
only  be  re-elected  after  an  interval  of  five  years,  and  some  high- 
spirited  young  men  who  were  popular  with  the  soldiers  of  the 
guard,  despising  the  magistrates  and  thinking  that  they  would 
easily  gain  their  purpose,  wanted  to  abolish  this  law  and  allow 
their  generals  to  hold  perpetual  commands ;  for  they  well 
knew  that  the  people  would  be  glad  enough  to  elect  them. 
Whereupon  the  magistrates  who  had  charge  of  these  matters, 
and  who  are  called  councillors,  at  first  determined  to  resist, 
but  they  afterwards  consented,  thinking  that,  if  only  this  one 
law  was  changed,  no  further  inroad  would  be  made  on  the 
constitution.  But  other  changes  soon  followed  which  they  in 
vain  attempted  to  oppose ;  and  the  State  passed  into  the  hands 
of  the  revolutionists  who  established  a  dynastic  oligarchy. 

All  constitutions  are  overthrown  either  from  within  or  from 
without;  the  latter,  when  there  is  some  government  close  at 
hand  having  an  opposite  interest,  or  at  a  distance,  but  power- 
ful. This  was  exemplified  in  the  old  times  of  the  Athenians 
and  the  Lacedaemonians ;  the  Athenians  everywhere  put  down 
the  oligarchies,  and  the  Lacedaemonians  the  democracies. 

I  have  now  explained  what  are  the  chief  causes  of  revolu- 
tions and  dissensions  in  States. 

We  have  next  to  consider  what  means  there  are  of  pre- 
serving States  in  general,  and  also  in  particular  cases.  In  the 
first  place  it  is  evident  that  if  we  know  the  causes  which  destroy 
States,  we  shall  also  know  the  causes  which  preserve  them ; 
for  opposites  produce  opposites,  and  destruction  is  the  oppo- 
site of  preservation.^ 

c  Cp.  Nic.  Eth.  V.  I,  §  4. 


THE   POLITICS  131 

In  all  well-attempered  governments  there  is  nothing  which 
should  be  more  jealously  maintained  than  the  spirit  of  obedi- 
ence to  law,  more  especially  in  small  matters ;  for  transgression 
creeps  in  unperceived  and  at  last  ruins  the  State,  just  as  the 
constant  recurrence  of  small  expenses  in  time  eats  up  a  fortune. 
The  change  does  not  take  place  all  at  once,  and  therefore  is  not 
observed ;  the  mind  is  deceived,  as  in  the  fallacy  which  says 
that  "  if  each  part  is  little,  then  the  whole  is  little."  And  this 
is  true  in  one  way,  but  not  in  another,  for  the  whole  and  the 
all  are  not  little,  although  they  are  made  up  of  littles. 

In  the  first  place,  then,  men  should  guard  against  the  be- 
ginning of  change,  and  in  the  second  place  they  should  not 
rely  upon  the  political  devices  of  which  I  have  already  spoken, 
invented  only  to  deceive  the  people,  for  they  are  proved  by 
experience  to  be  useless.  Further  we  note  that  oligarchies  as 
well  as  aristocracies  may  last,  not  from  any  inherent  stability 
in  such  forms  of  government,  but  because  the  rulers  are  on 
good  terms  both  with  the  unenfranchised  and  with  the  gov- 
erning classes,  not  maltreating  any  who  are  excluded  from 
the  government,  but  introducing  into  it  the  leading  spirits 
among  them.  They  should  never  wrong  the  ambitious  in  a 
matter  of  honor,  or  the  common  people  in  a  matter  of  money ; 
and  they  should  treat  one  another  and  their  fellow-citizens  in 
a  spirit  of  equality.  The  equality  which  the  friends  of  de- 
mocracy seek  to  establish  for  the  multitude  is  not  only  just  but 
likewise  expedient  among  equals.  Hence,  if  the  governing 
class  are  numerous,  many  democratic  institutions  are  useful ; 
for  example,  the  restriction  of  the  tenure  of  offices  to  six 
months,  that  all  those  who  are  of  equal  rank  may  share  in 
them.  Indeed,  equals  or  peers  when  they  are  numerous  be- 
come a  kind  of  democracy,  and  therefore  demagogues  are 
very  likely  to  arise  among  them,  as  I  have  already  remarked. 
The  short  tenure  of  office  prevents  oligarchies  and  aristocracies 
from  falling  into  the  hands  of  families;  it  is  not  easy  for  a 
person  to  do  any  great  harm  when  his  tenure  of  office  is  short, 
whereas  long  possession  begets  tyranny  in  oligarchies  and  de- 
mocracies. For  the  aspirants  to  tyranny  are  either  the  princi- 
pal men  of  the  State,  who  in  democracies  are  demagogues 
and  in  oligarchies  members  of  ruling  houses,  or  those  who 
hold  great  offices,  and  have  a  long  tenure  of  them. 

States  are  preserved  when  their  destroyers  are  at  a  distance, 


132 


ARISTOTLE 


and  sometimes  also  because  they  are  near,  for  the  fear  of  them 
makes  the  government  keep  in  hand  the  State.  Wherefore 
the  ruler  who  has  a  care  of  the  State  should  invent  terrors, 
and  bring  distant  dangers  near,  in  order  that  the  citizens  may- 
be on  their  guard,  and,  like  sentinels  in  a  night-watch,  never 
relax  their  attention.  He  should  endeavor  too  by  help  of  the 
laws  to  control  the  contentions  and  quarrels  of  the  notables, 
and  to  prevent  those  who  have  not  hitherto  taken  part  in  them 
from  being  drawn  in.  No  ordinary  man  can  discern  the  be- 
ginning of  evil,  but  only  the  true  statesman. 

As  to  the  change  produced  in  oligarchies  and  constitutional 
governments  by  the  alteration  of  the  qualification,  w^hen  this 
arises,  not  out  of  any  variation  in  the  census,  but  only  out  of 
the  increase  of  money,  it  is  well  to  compare  the  general  valua- 
tion of  property  with  that  of  past  years,  annually  in  those 
cities  in  which  the  census  is  taken  annually,  and  in  larger  cities 
every  third  or  fifth  year.  If  the  whole  is  many  times  greater 
or  many  times  less  than  when  the  rates  were  fixed  at  the  pre- 
vious census,  there  should  be  power  given  by  law  to  raise  or 
lower  the  qualification  as  the  amount  is  greater  or  less.  Where 
in  the  absence  of  any  such  provision  the  standard  is  raised,  a 
constitutional  government  passes  into  an  oligarchy,  and  an  oli- 
garchy is  narrowed  to  a  rule  of  families ;  where  the  standard 
is  lowered,  constitutional  government  becomes  democracy,  and 
oligarchy  either  constitutional  government  or  democracy. 

It  is  a  principle  common  to  democracy,  oligarchy,  and  every 
other  form  of  government  not  to  allow  the  disproportionate 
increase  of  any  citizen,  but  to  give  moderate  honor  for  a  long 
time  rather  than  great  honor  for  a  short  time.  For  men  are 
easily  spoilt;  not  everyone  can  bear  prosperity.  But  if  this 
rule  is  not  observed,  at  any  rate  the  honors  which  are  given 
all  at  once  should  be  taken  away  by  degrees  and  not  all  at 
once.  Especially  should  the  laws  provide  against  anyone 
having  too  much  power,  whether  derived  from  friends  or 
money;  if  he  has,  he  and  his  followers  should  be  sent  out 
of  the  country.  And  since  innovations  creep  in  through  the 
private  life  of  individuals,  there  ought  to  be  a  magistracy 
which  will  have  an  eye  to  those  whose  life  is  not  in  harmony 
with  the  government,  v/hether  oligarchy  or  democracy  or  any 
other.  And  for  a  like  reason  an  increase  of  prosperity  in  any 
part  of  the  State  should  be  carefully  watched.     The  proper 


THE  POLITICS  133 

remedy  for  this  evil  is  always  to  give  the  management  of 
affairs  and  offices  of  state  to  opposite  elements ;  such  opposites 
are  the  virtuous  and  the  many,  or  the  rich  and  the  poor.  An- 
other way  is  to  combine  the  poor  and  the  rich  in  one  body,  or 
to  increase  the  middle  class :  thus  an  end  will  be  put  to  the 
revolutions  which  arise  from  inequality. 

But  above  all  every  State  should  be  so  administered  and 
so  regulated  by  law  that  its  magistrates  cannot  possibly  make 
money.  In  oligarchies  special  precautions  should  be  used 
against  this  evil.  For  the  people  do  not  take  any  great  offence 
at  being  kept  out  of  the  government — indeed  they  are  rather 
pleased  than  otherwise  at  having  leisure  for  their  private  busi- 
ness— but  what  irritates  them  is  to  think  that  their  rulers 
are  stealing  the  public  money;  then  they  are  doubly  annoyed; 
for  they  lose  both  honor  and  profit.  If  office  brought  no  profit, 
then  and  then  only  could  democracy  and  aristocracy  be  com- 
bined; for  both  notables  and  people  might  have  their  wishes 
gratified.  All  would  be  able  to  hold  office,  which  is  the  aim  of 
democracy,  and  the  notables  would  be  magistrates,  which  is 
the  aim  of  aristocracy.  And  this  result  may  be  accomplished 
when  there  is  no  possibility  of  making  money  out  of  the 
offices;  for  the  poor  will  not  want  to  have  them  when  there 
is  nothing  to  be  gained  from  them — they  would  rather  be 
attending  to  their  own  concerns;  and  the  rich,  who  do  not 
want  money  from  the  public  treasury,  will  be  able  to  take  them ; 
and  so  the  poor  will  keep  to  their  work  and  grow  rich,  and 
the  notables  will  not  be  governed  by  the  lower  class.  In  order  to 
avoid  peculation  of  the  public  money,  the  transfer  of  the  revenue 
should  be  made  at  a  general  assembly  of  the  citizens,  and  dupli- 
cates of  the  accounts  deposited  with  the  different  brotherhoods, 
companies,  and  tribes.  And  honors  should  be  given  by  law 
to  magistrates  who  have  the  reputation  of  being  incorruptible. 
In  democracies  the  rich  should  be  spared;  not  only  should 
their  property  not  be  divided,  but  their  incomes  also,  which  in 
some  States  are  taken  from  them  imperceptibly,  should  be  pro- 
tected. It  is  a  good  thing  to  prevent  the  wealthy  citizens,  even 
if  they  are  willing,  from  undertaking  expensive  and  useless 
public  services,  such  as  the  giving  of  choruses,  torch-races, 
and  the  like.  In  an  oligarchy,  on  the  other  hand,  great  care 
should  be  taken  of  the  poor,  and  lucrative  offices  should  go 
to  them ;  if  any  of  the  wealthy  classes  insult  them,  the  offender 


134 


ARISTOTLE 


should  be  punished  more  severely  than  one  of  their  own  class 
for  a  like  offence.  Provisions  should  be  made  that  estates 
pass  by  inheritance  and  not  by  gift,  and  no  person  should  have 
more  than  one  inheritance ;  for  in  this  way  properties  will  be 
equalized,  and  more  of  the  poor  rise  to  competency.  It  is 
also  expedient  both  in  democracy  and  in  an  oligarchy  to  assign 
to  those  who  have  less  share  in  the  government  (for  example, 
to  the  rich  in  a  democracy  and  to  the  poor  in  an  oligarchy)  an 
equality  or  preference  in  all  but  the  principal  offices  of  state. 
The  latter  should  be  entrusted  chiefly  or  only  to  members  of 
the  governing  class. 

There  are  three  qualifications  required  in  those  who  have 
to  fill  the  highest  offices — (i)  first  of  all,  loyalty  to  the  estab- 
lished constitution;  (2)  the  greatest  administrative  capacity; 
(3)  virtue  and  justice  of  the  kind  proper  to  each  form  of  gov- 
ernment; for,  if  what  is  just  is  not  the  same  in  all  govern- 
ments, the  quality  of  justice  must  also  differ.  There  may  be 
a  doubt  however,  when  all  these  qualities  do  not  meet  in  the 
same  person,  how  the  selection  is  to  be  made;  suppose,  for 
example,  a  good  general  is  a  bad  man  and  not  a  friend  to  the 
constitution,  and  another  man  is  loyal  and  just,  which  should 
we  choose?  In  making  the  election  ought  we  not  to  consider 
two  points?  what  qualities  are  common,  and  what  are  rare. 
Thus  in  the  choice  of  a  general,  we  should  regard  his  skill 
rather  than  his  virtue;  for  few  have  military  skill,  but  many 
have  virtue.  In  keeping  watch  or  in  any  ofiice  of  steward- 
ship, on  the  other  hand,  the  opposite  rule  should  be  observed ; 
for  more  virtue  than  ordinary  is  required  in  the  holder  of 
such  an  office,  but  the  necessary  knowledge  is  of  a  sort  which 
all  men  possess. 

It  may,  however,  be  asked  what  a  man  wants  with  virtue 
if  he  have  political  ability  and  is  loyal,  since  these  two  qualities 
alone  will  make  him  do  what  is  for  the  public  interest.  But 
may  not  men  have  both  of  them  and  yet  be  deficient  in  self- 
control?  If,  knowing  and  loving  their  own  interests,  they 
do  not  always  attend  to  them,  may  they  not  be  equally  neg- 
ligent of  the  interests  of  the  public? 

Speaking  generally,  we  may  say  that  whatever  legal  enact- 
ments are  held  to  be  for  the  interest  of  States,  all  these  pre- 
serve States.  And  the  great  preserving  principle  is  the  one 
which  has  been  repeatedly  mentioned — to  have  a  care  that  the 


THE  POLITICS  135 

loyal  citizens  should  outnumber  the  disloyal.  Neither  should 
we  forget  the  mean,  which  at  the  present  day  is  lost  sight  oi 
in  perverted  forms  of  government ;  for  many  practices  which 
appear  to  be  democratical  are  the  ruin  of  democracies,  and 
many  which  appear  to  be  oligarchical  are  the  ruin  of  oligarchies. 
Those  who  think  that  all  virtue  is  to  be  found  in  their  own 
party  principles  push  matters  to  extremes ;  they  do  not  con- 
sider that  disproportion  destroys  a  State.  A  nose  which  varies 
from  the  ideal  of  straightness  to  a  hook  or  snub  may  still  be 
of  good  shape  and  agreeable  to  the  eye;  but  if  the  excess 
be  very  great,  all  symmetry  is  lost,  and  the  nose  at  last  ceases 
to  be  a  nose  at  all  on  account  of  some  excess  in  one  direction 
or  defect  in  the  other ;  and  this  is  true  of  every  other  part  of 
the  human  body.  The  same  law  of  proportion  equally  holds 
in  States.  Oligarchy  or  democracy,  although  a  departure  from 
the  most  perfect  form,  may  yet  be  a  good  enough  government, 
but  if  anyone  attempts  to  push  the  principles  of  either  to  an 
extreme,  he  will  begin  by  spoiling  the  government  and  end 
by  having  none  at  all.  Wherefore  the  legislator  and  the  states- 
man ought  to  know  what  democratical  measures  save  and 
what  destroy  a  democracy,  and  what  oligarchical  measures 
save  or  destroy  an  oligarchy.  For  neither  the  one  nor  the 
other  can  exist  or  continue  to  exist  unless  both  rich  and  poor 
are  included  in  it.  If  equality  of  property  is  introduced,  the 
State  must  of  necessity  take  another  form ;  for  when  by  laws 
carried  to  excess  one  or  other  element  in  the  State  is  ruined, 
the  constitution  is  ruined. 

There  is  an  error  common  both  to  oligarchies  and  to  democ- 
racies : — in  the  latter  the  demagogues,  when  the  multitude  are 
above  the  law,  are  always  cutting  the  city  in  two  by  quarrels 
with  the  rich,  whereas  they  should  always  profess  to  be  main- 
taining their  cause ;  just  as  in  oligarchies,  the  oligarchs  should 
profess  to  maintain  the  cause  of  the  people,  and  should  take 
oaths  the  opposite  of  those  which  they  now  take.  For  there 
are  cities  in  which  they  swear — "  I  will  be  an  enemy  to  the 
people,  and  will  devise  all  the  harm  against  them  which  I  can  " ; 
but  they  ought  to  exhibit  and  to  entertain  the  very  opposite 
feeling;  in  the  form  of  their  oath  there  should  be  an  express 
declaration — "  I  will  do  no  wrong  to  the  people." 

But  of  all  the  things  which  I  have  mentioned  that  which 
most  contributes  to  the  permanence  of  constitutions  is  the 


t36  ARISTOTLE 

adaptation  of  education  to  the  form  of  government,  and  yet 
in  our  own  day  this  principle  is  universally  neglected.  The  best 
laws,  though  sanctioned  by  every  citizen  of  the  State,  will  be 
of  no  avail  unless  the  young  are  trained  by  habit  and  educa- 
tion in  the  spirit  of  the  constitution,  if  the  laws  are  democratical, 
democratically,  or  oligarchically,  if  the  laws  are  oligarchical. 
For  there  may  be  a  want  of  self-discipline  in  States  as  well  as  in 
individuals.  Now,  to  have  been  educated  in  the  spirit  of  the 
constitution  is  not  to  perform  the  actions  in  which  oligarchs 
or  democrats  delight,  but  those  by  which  the  existence  of  an 
oligarchy  or  of  a  democracy  is  made  possible.  Whereas  among 
ourselves  the  sons  of  the  ruling  class  in  an  oligarchy  live  in 
luxury,  but  the  sons  of  the  poor  are  hardened  by  exercise  and 
toil,  and  hence  they  are  both  more  inclined  and  better  able 
to  make  a  revolution.<i  And  in  democracies  of  the  more  ex- 
treme type  there  has  arisen  a  false  idea  of  freedom  which  is 
contradictory  to  the  true  interests  of  the  State.  For  two  prin- 
ciples are  characteristic  of  democracy,  the  government  of  the 
majority  and  freedom.  Men  think  that  what  is  just  is  equal ; 
and  that  equality  is  the  supremacy  of  the  popular  will;  and 
that  freedom  and  equality  mean  the  doing  what  a  man  likes. 
In  such  democracies  everyone  lives  as  he  pleases,  or  in  the 
words  of  Euripides,  "  according  to  his  fancy."  But  this  is 
all  wrong;  men  should  not  think  it  slavery  to  live  according 
to  the  rule  of  the  constitution ;  for  it  is  their  salvation. 

I  have  now  discussed  generally  the  causes  of  the  revolution 
and  destruction  of  States,  and  the  means  of  their  preservation 
and  continuance. 

I  have  still  to  speak  of  monarchy,  and  the  causes  of  its 
destruction  and  preservation.  What  I  have  said  already  re- 
specting other  forms  of  government  applies  almost  equally  to 
royal  and  to  tyrannical  rule.  For  royal  rule  is  of  the  nature  of 
an  aristocracy,  and  a  tyranny  is  a  compound  of  oligarchy  and 
democracy  in  their  most  extreme  forms;  it  is  therefore  most 
injurious  to  its  subjects,  being  made  up  of  two  evil  forms 
of  government,  and  having  the  perversions  and  errors  of  both. 
These  two  forms  of  monarchy  differ  in  their  very  origin.  The 
appointment  of  a  king  is  the  resource  of  the  better  classes 
against  the  people,  and  he  is  elected  by  them  out  of  their  own 
number,  because  either  he  himself  or  his  family  excel  in  virtue 
d  Cp.  PI.  Rep.  viii.  556  D. 


THE  POLITICS  137 

and  virtuous  actions ;  whereas  a  tyrant  is  chosen  from  the 
people  to  be  their  protector  against  the  notables,  and  in  order 
to  prevent  them  from  being  injured.  History  shows  that 
almost  all  tyrants  have  been  demagogues  who  gained  the  favor 
of  the  people  by  their  accusation  of  the  notables.^  At  any 
rate  this  was  the  manner  in  which  the  tyrannies  arose  in  the 
days  when  cities  had  increased  in  power.  Others  which  were 
older  originated  in  the  ambition  of  kings  wanting  to  overstep 
the  limits  of  their  hereditary  power  and  become  despots.  Others 
again  grew  out  of  the  class  which  were  chosen  to  be  chief 
magistrates ;  for  in  ancient  times  the  people  who  elected  them 
gave  the  magistrates,  whether  civil  or  religious,  a  long  tenure. 
Others  arose  out  of  the  custom  which  oligarchies  had  of  making 
some  individual  supreme  over  the  highest  offices.  In  any  of 
these  ways  an  ambitious  man  had  no  difficulty,  if  he  desired, 
in  creating  a  tyranny,  since  he  had  the  power  in  his  hands 
already,  either  as  king  or  as  one  of  the  officers  of  state.  Thus 
Pheidon  at  Argos  and  several  others  were  originally  kings, 
and  ended  by  becoming  tyrants ;  Phalaris,  on  the  other  hand, 
and  the  Ionian  tyrants,  acquired  the  tyranny  by  holding  great 
offices.  Whereas  Panaetius  at  Leontini,  Cypselus  at  Corinth, 
Pisistratus  at  Athens,  Dionysius  at  Syracuse,  and  several 
others  who  afterwards  became  tyrants,  were  at  first  dema- 
gogues. 

And  so,  as  I  was  saying,  royalty  ranks  with  aristocracy,  for 
it  is  based  upon  merit,  whether  of  the  individual  or  of  his 
family,  or  on  benefits  conferred,  or  on  these  claims  with  power 
added  to  them.  For  all  who  have  obtained  this  honor  have 
benefited,  or  had  in  their  power  to  benefit,  States  and  nations ; 
some,  like  Codrus,  have  prevented  the  State  from  being  en- 
slaved in  war;  others,  like  Cyrus,  have  given  their  country 
freedom,  or  have  settled  or  gained  a  territory,  like  the  Lace- 
daemonian, Macedonian,  and  Molossian  kings.  The  idea  of  a 
king  is  to  be  a  protector  of  the  rich  against  unjust  treatment, 
of  the  people  against  insult  and  oppression.  Whereas  a  tyrant, 
as  has  often  been  repeated,  has  no  regard  to  any  public  interest, 
but  only  to  his  private  ends ;  his  aim  is  pleasure,  the  aim  of 
a  king,  honor.  Wherefore  also  in  their  desires  they  diflFer: 
the  tyrant  is  desirous  of  riches,  the  king,  of  what  brings  honor. 
And  the  guards  of  a  king  are  citizens,  but  of  a  tyrant  merce- 
naries. 

e  Plato,  Rep.  565  d. 


138  ARISTOTLE 

That  tyranny  has  all  the  vices  both  of  democracy  and  oli- 
garchy is  evident.  As  of  oligarchy  so  of  tyranny,  the  end  is 
wealth  (for  by  wealth  only  can  the  tyrant  maintain  either  his 
guard  or  his  luxury).  Both  mistrust  the  people,  and  therefore 
deprive  them  of  their  arms.  Both  agree  too  in  injuring  the 
people  and  driving  them  out  of  the  city  and  dispersing  them. 
From  democracy  tyrants  have  borrowed  the  art  of  making 
war  upon  the  notables  and  destroying  them  secretly  or  openly, 
or  of  exiling  them  because  they  are  rivals  and  stand  in  the 
way  of  their  power ;  and  also  because  plots  against  them  are 
contrived  by  men  of  this  class,  who  either  want  to  rule  or  to 
escape  subjection.  Hence  Periander  advised  Thrasybulus  to 
cut  off  the  tops  of  the  tallest  ears  of  corn,  meaning  that  he 
must  always  put  out  of  the  way  the  citizens  who  overtop  the 
rest.  And  so,  as  I  have  already  intimated,  the  beginnings  of 
change  are  the  same  in  monarchies  as  in  other  forms  of  gov- 
ernment; subjects  attack  their  sovereigns  out  of  fear  or  con- 
tempt, or  because  they  have  been  unjustly  treated  by  them. 
And  of  injustice,  the  most  common  form  is  insult,  another 
is  confiscation  of  property. 

The  ends  sought  by  conspiracies  against  monarchies,  whether 
tyrannies  or  royalties,  are  the  same  as  the  ends  sought  by 
conspiracies  against  other  forms  of  government.  Monarchs 
have  great  wealth  and  honor  which  are  objects  of  desire  to  all 
mankind.  The  attacks  are  made  sometimes  against  their  lives, 
sometimes  against  the  office ;  where  the  sense  of  insult  is  the 
motive,  against  their  lives.  Any  sort  of  insult  (and  there  are 
many)  may  stir  up  anger,  and  when  men  are  angry,  they 
commonly  act  out  of  revenge,  and  not  from  ambition.  For 
example,  the  attempt  made  upon  the  Pisistratidse  arose  out  of 
the  public  dishonor  offered  to  the  sister  of  Harmodius  and  the 
insult  to  himself.  He  attacked  the  tyrant  for  his  sister's  sake, 
and  Aristogeiton  joined  in  the  attack  for  the  sake  of  Harmodius. 
A  conspiracy  was  also  formed  against  Periander,  the  tyrant  of 
Ambracia,  because,  when  drinking  with  a  favorite  youth,  he 
asked  him  whether  by  this  time  he  was  not  with  child  by  him. 
Philip,  too,  was  attacked  by  Pausanias  because  he  permitted 
him  to  be  insulted  by  Attalus  and  his  friends,  and  Amyntas 
the  little,  by  Derdas,  because  he  boasted  of  having  enjoyed  his 
youth.  Evagoras  of  Cyprus,  again,  was  slain  by  the  eunuch 
to  revenge  an  insult ;    for  his  wife  had  been  carried  off  by 


THE  POLITICS  139 

Evagoras*s  son.  Many  conspiracies  have  originated  in  shame- 
ful attempts  made  by  sovereigns  on  the  persons  of  their  sub- 
jects. Such  was  the  attack  of  Crataeus  upon  Archelaus;  he 
had  always  hated  the  connection  with  him,  and  so,  when  Arche- 
laus, having  promised  him  one  of  his  two  daughters  in  mar- 
riage, did  not  give  him  either  of  them,  but  broke  his  word  and 
married  the  elder  to  the  King  of  Elymaea,  when  he  was  hard 
pressed  in  a  war  against  Sirrhas  and  Arrhibaeus,  and  the 
younger  to  his  own  son  Amyntas,  under  the  idea  that  he  would 
then  be  less  likely  to  quarrel  with  the  son  of  Cleopatra — Crataeus 
made  this  slight  a  pretext  for  attacking  Archelaus,  though  even 
a  less  reason  would  have  sufficed,  for  the  real  cause  of  the 
estrangement  was  the  disgust  which  he  felt  at  his  connection 
with  the  King.  And  from  a  like  motive  Hellanocrates  of 
Larissa  conspired  with  him;  for  when  Archelaus,  who  was 
his  lover,  did  not  fulfil  his  promise  of  restoring  him  to  his 
country,  he  thought  that  the  connection  between  them  had 
originated,  not  in  affection,  but  in  the  wantonness  of  power. 
Parrhon,  too,  and  Heracleides  of  ^nos,  slew  Cotys  in  order 
to  avenge  their  father,  and  Adamas  revolted  from  Cotys  in 
revenge  for  the  wanton  outrage  which  he  had  committed  in 
mutilating  him  when  a  child. 

Many,  too,  irritated  at  blows  inflicted  on  the  person  which 
they  deemed  an  insult,  have  either  killed  or  attempted  to  kill 
officers  of  state  and  royal  princes  by  whom  they  have  been 
injured.  Thus,  at  Mitylene,  Megacles  and  his  friends  attacked 
and  slew  the  Penthalidae,  as  they  were  going  about  and  striking 
people  with  clubs.  At  a  later  date  Smerdis,  who  had  been 
beaten  and  torn  away  from  his  wife  by  Penthilus,  slew  him. 
In  the  conspiracy  against  Archelaus,  Decamnichus  stimulated 
the  fury  of  the  assassins  and  led  the  attack ;  he  was  enraged  be- 
cause Archelaus  had  delivered  him  to  Euripides  to  be  scourged ; 
for  the  poet  had  been  irritated  at  some  remark  made  by  Decam- 
nichus on  the  foulness  of  his  breath.  Many  other  examples 
might  be  cited  of  murders  and  conspiracies  which  have  arisen 
from  similar  causes. 

Fear  is  another  motive  which  has  caused  conspiracies  as 
well  in  monarchies  as  in  more  popular  forms  of  government. 
Thus  Artapanes  conspired  against  Xerxes  and  slew  him,  fear- 
ing that  he  would  be  accused  of  hanging  Darius  against  his 
orders — he  being  under  the  impression  that  Xerxes   would 


X40 


ARISTOTLE 


forget  what  he  had  said  in  the  middle  of  a  meal,  and  that  the 
offence  would  be  forgiven. 

Another  motive  is  contempt,  as  in  the  case  of  Sardanapalus, 
whom  someone  saw  carding  wool  with  his  women,  if  the  story- 
tellers say  truly ;  and  the  tale  may  be  true,  if  not  of  him,  of 
someone  else.  Dion  attacked  the  younger  Dionysius  because 
he  despised  him,  and  saw  that  he  was  equally  despised  by 
his  own  subjects,  and  that  he  was  always  drunk.  Even  the 
friends  of  a  tyrant  will  sometimes  attack  him  out  of  contempt ; 
for  the  confidence  which  he  reposes  in  them  breeds  contempt, 
and  they  think  that  they  will  not  be  found  out.  The  expecta- 
tion of  success  is  likewise  a  sort  of  contempt;  the  assailants 
are  ready  to  strike,  and  think  nothing  of  the  danger,  because 
they  seem  to  have  the  power  in  their  hands.  Thus  generals 
of  armies  attack  monarchs;  as,  for  example,  Cyrus  attacked 
Astyages,  despising  the  effeminacy  of  his  life,  and  believing 
that  his  power  was  worn  out.  Thus,  again,  Seuthes  the 
Thracian  conspired  against  Amadocus,  whose  general  he  was. 

And  sometimes  men  are  actuated  by  more  than  one  motive, 
like  Mithridates,  who  conspired  against  Ariobarzanes,  partly 
out  of  contempt  and  partly  from  the  love  of  gain. 

Bold  natures,  placed  by  their  sovereigns  in  a  high  military 
position,  are  most  likely  to  make  the  attempt  in  the  expecta- 
tion of  success ;  for  courage  is  emboldened  by  power,  and  the 
union  of  the  two  inspires  them  with  the  hope  of  an  easy  victory. 

Attempts  of  which  the  motive  is  ambition  arise  from  other 
causes.  There  are  men  who  will  not  risk  their  lives  in  the 
hope  of  gains  and  rewards  however  great,  but  who  nevertheless 
regard  the  killing  of  a  tyrant  simply  as  an  extraordinary 
action  which  will  make  them  famous  and  honorable  in  the 
world ;  they  wish  to  acquire,  not  a  kingdom,  but  a  name.  It 
is  rare,  however,  to  find  such  men ;  he  who  would  kill  a  tyrant 
must  be  prepared  to  lose  his  life  if  he  fail.  He  must  have  the 
resolution  of  Dion,  who,  when  he  made  war  upon  Dionysius, 
took  with  him  very  few  troops,  saying  "  that  whatever  meas- 
ure of  success  he  might  attain  would  be  enough  for  him,  even 
if  he  were  to  die  the  moment  he  landed ;  such  a  death  would 
be  welcome  to  him."  But  this  is  a  temper  to  which  few  can 
attain. 

Once  more,  tyrannies,  like  all  other  governments,  are  de- 
stroyed from  without  by  some  opposite  and  more  powerful  form 


THE  POLITICS  141 

of  government.  That  such  a  government  will  have  the  will 
to  attack  them  is  clear ;  for  the  two  are  opposed  in  principle ; 
and  all  men,  if  they  can,  do  what  they  will.  Democracy  is 
also  antagonistic  to  tyranny,  on  the  principle  of  Hesiod,  "  Potter 
hates  potter,"  because  they  are  nearly  akin,  for  the  extreme 
form  of  democracy  is  tyranny;  and  royalty  and  aristocracy 
are  both  alike  opposed  to  tyranny,  because  they  are  constitu- 
tions of  a  different  type.  And  therefore  the  Lacedaemonians 
put  down  most  of  the  tyrannies,  and  so  did  the  Syracusans 
during  the  time  when  they  were  well-governed. 

Again,  tyrannies  are  destroyed  from  within,  when  the  reign- 
ing families  are  divided  among  themselves,  as  that  of  Gelo 
was,  and  more  recently  that  of  Dionysius ;  in  the  case  of  Gelo 
because  Thrasybulus,  the  brother  of  Hiero,  flattered  the  son 
of  Gelo  and  led  him  into  excesses  in  order  that  he  might  rule 
in  his  name.  Whereupon  the  family  conspired  to  get  rid  of 
Thrasybulus  and  save  the  tyranny;  but  the  party  who  con- 
spired with  them  seized  the  opportunity  and  drove  them  all 
out.  In  the  case  of  Dionysius,  Dion,  his  own  relative,  attacked 
and  expelled  him  with  the  assistance  of  the  people;  he  after- 
wards perished  himself. 

There  are  two  chief  motives  which  induce  men  to  attack 
tyrannies — hatred  and  contempt.  Hatred  of  tyrants  is  inevi- 
table, and  contempt  is  also  a  frequent  cause  of  their  destruc- 
tion. Thus  we  see  that  most  of  those  who  have  acquired,  have 
retained  their  power,  but  those  who  have  inherited,:^  have  lost 
it,  almost  at  once;  for  living  in  luxurious  ease,  they  have 
become  contemptible,  and  offer  many  opportunities  to  their 
assailants.  Anger,  too,  must  be  included  under  hatred,  and 
produces  the  same  effects.  It  is  oftentimes  even  more  ready 
to  strike — ^the  angry  are  more  impetuous  in  making  an  attack, 
for  they  do  not  listen  to  reason.  And  men  are  very  apt  to  give 
way  to  their  passions  when  they  are  insulted.  To  this  cause 
is  to  be  attributed  the  fall  of  the  Pisistratidae  and  of  many 
others.  Hatred  is  more  reasonable,  but  anger  is  accompanied 
by  pain,  which  is  an  impediment  to  reason,  whereas  hatred 
is  painless.^ 

In  a  word,  all  the  causes  which  I  have  mentioned  as  destroy- 
ing the  last  and  most  unmixed  form  of  oligarchy,  and  the  ex- 
treme form  of  democracy,  may  be  assumed  to  affect  tyranny; 

/  Cp.  Plato,  Laws,  iii.  695.  g  Cp.  Rhetoric,  ii.  4,  §  31. 


Ua 


ARISTOTLE 


indeed  the  extreme  forms  of  both  are  only  tyrannies  distributed 
among  several  persons.  Kingly  rule  is  little  affected  by  ex- 
ternal causes,  and  is,  therefore,  lasting;  it  is  generally  de- 
stroyed from  within.  And  there  are  two  ways  in  which  the 
destruction  may  come  about;  (i)  when  the  members  of  the 
royal  family  quarrel  among  themselves,  and  (2)  when  the  kings 
attempt  to  administer  the  State  too  much  after  the  fashion  of 
a  tyranny,  and  to  extend  their  authority  contrary  to  the  law. 
There  are  now  no  royalties;  monarchies,  where  they  exist, 
are  tyrannies.  For  the  rule  of  a  king  is  over  voluntary  sub- 
jects, and  he  is  supreme  in  all  important  matters;  but  in  our 
own  day  men  are  more  upon  an  equality,  and  no  one  is  so 
immeasurably  superior  to  others  as  to  represent  adequately 
the  greatness  and  dignity  of  the  office.  Hence  mankind  will 
not,  if  they  can  help,  endure  it,  and  anyone  who  obtains  power 
by  force  or  fraud  is  at  once  thought  to  be  a  tyrant.  In  heredi- 
tary monarchies  a  further  cause  of  destruction  is  the  fact  that 
kings  often  fall  into  contempt,  and,  although  possessing  not 
tyrannical  but  only  royal  power,  are  apt  to  outrage  others. 
Their  overthrow  is  then  readily  effected ;  for  there  is  an  end 
to  the  king  when  his  subjects  do  not  want  to  have  him,  but 
the  tyrant  lasts,  whether  they  like  him  or  not. 

The  destruction  of  monarchies  is  to  be  attributed  to  these 
and  the  like  causes. 

And  they  are  preserved,  to  speak  generally,  by  the  opposite 
causes ;  or,  if  we  consider  them  separately,  ( i )  royalty  is  pre- 
served by  the  limitation  of  its  powers.  The  more  restricted  the 
functions  of  kings,  the  longer  their  power  will  last  unimpaired ; 
for  then  they  are  more  moderate  and  not  so  despotic  in  their 
ways;  and  they  are  less  envied  by  their  subjects.  This  is 
the  reason  why  the  kingly  office  has  lasted  so  long  among  the 
Molossians,  And  for  a  similar  reason  it  has  continued  among 
the  Lacedaemonians,  because  there  it  was  always  divided  be- 
tween two,  and  afterwards  further  limited  by  Theopompus  in 
various  respects,  more  particularly  by  the  establishment  of  the 
ephoralty.  He  diminished  the  power  of  the  kings,  but  estab- 
lished on  a  more  lasting  basis  the  kingly  office,  which  was 
thus  made  in  a  certain  sense  not  less,  but  greater.  There  is 
a  story  that  when  his  wife  once  asked  him  whether  he  was 
not  ashamed  to  leave  to  his  sons  a  royal  power  which  was 
less  than  he  had  inherited  from  his  father,  "  No  indeed,"  he 


THE   POLITICS  143 

replied,  "  for  the  power  which  I  leave  to  them  will  be  more 
lasting." 

As  to  (2)  tyrannies,  they  are  preserved  in  two  most  opposite 
ways.  One  of  them  is  the  old  traditional  method  in  which 
most  tyrants  administer  their  government.  Of  such  arts 
Periander  of  Corinth  is  said  to  have  been  the  great  master, 
and  many  similar  devices  may  be  gathered  from  the  Persians 
in  the  administration  of  their  government.  There  are  also 
the  ancient  prescriptions  for  the  preservation  of  a  tyranny,  in 
so  far  as  this  is  possible;  viz.,  that  the  tyrant  should  lop  off 
those  who  are  too  high;  he  must  put  to  death  men  of  spirit; 
he  must  not  allow  common  meals,  clubs,  education,  and  the 
like;  he  must  be  upon  his  guard  against  anything  which  is 
likely  to  inspire  either  courage  or  confidence  among  his  sub- 
jects ;  he  must  prohibit  literary  assemblies  or  other  meetings  for 
discussion,  and  he  must  take  every  means  to  prevent  people 
from  knowing  one  another  (for  acquaintance  begets  mutual 
confidence).  Further  he  must  compel  the  inhabitants  to  appear 
in  public  and  live  at  his  gates;  then  he  will  know  what  they 
are  doing:  if  they  are  always  kept  under,  they  will  learn  to 
be  humble.  In  short  he  should  practice  these  and  the  like  Per- 
sian and  barbaric  arts  which  all  have  the  same  object.  A 
tyrant  should  also  endeavor  to  know  what  each  of  his  sub- 
jects says  or  does,  and  should  employ  spies,  like  the  "  female 
detectives  "  at  Syracuse,  and  the  eavesdroppers  whom  Hiero 
was  in  the  habit  of  sending  to  any  place  of  resort  or  meeting ; 
for  the  fear  of  informers  prevents  people  from  speaking  their 
minds,  and  if  they  do,  they  are  more  easily  found  out.  Another 
art  of  the  tyrant  is  to  sow  quarrels  amongst  the  citizens; 
friends  should  be  embroiled  with  friends,  the  people  with  the 
notables,  and  the  rich  with  one  another.  Also  he  should  im- 
poverish his  subjects;  he  thus  provides  money  for  the  sup- 
port of  his  guards,  and  the  people,  having  to  keep  hard  at 
work,  are  prevented  from  conspiring.  The  Pyramids  of 
Egypt  afford  an  example  of  this  policy;  also  the  offerings 
of  the  family  of  Cypselus,  and  the  building  of  the  temple  of 
Olympian  Zeus  by  the  Pisistratidae,  and  the  great  Polycratean 
monuments  at  Samos ;  all  these  works  were  alike  intended 
to  occupy  the  people  and  keep  them  poor.  Another  practice 
of  tyrants  is  to  multiply  taxes,  after  the  manner  of  Dionysius 
at  Syracuse,  who  contrived  that  within  five  years  his  subjects 


144 


ARISTOTLE 


should  bring  into  the  treasury  their  whole  property.  The 
tyrant  is  also  fond  of  making  war  in  order  that  his  subjects 
may  have  something  to  do  and  be  always  in  want  of  a  leader. 
And  whereas  the  power  of  a  king  is  preserved  by  his  friends, 
the  characteristic  of  a  tyrant  is  to  distrust  his  friends,  because 
he  knows  that  all  men  want  to  overthrow  him,  and  they  above 
all  have  the  power. 

Again,  the  evil  practices  of  the  last  and  worst  form  of  de- 
mocracy are  all  found  in  tyrannies.  Such  are  the  power  given 
to  women  in  their  families  in  the  hope  that  they  will  inform 
against  their  husbands,  and  the  license  which  is  allowed  to 
slaves  in  order  that  they  may  betray  their  masters ;  for  slaves 
and  women  do  not  conspire  against  tyrants;  and  they  are  of 
course  friendly  to  tyrannies  and  also  to  democracies,  since 
under  them  they  have  a  good  time.  For  the  people  too  would 
fain  be  a  monarch,  and  therefore  by  them,  as  well  as  by  the 
tyrant,  the  flatterer  is  held  in  honor;  in  democracies  he  is  the 
demagogue ;  and  the  tyrant  also  has  hib  humble  companions 
who  flatter  him. 

Hence  tyrants  are  always  fond  of  bad  men,  because  they 
love  to  be  flattered,  but  no  man  who  has  the  spirit  of  a  free- 
man in  him  will  demean  himself  by  flattery ;  good  men  love 
others,  but  they  do  not  flatter  anybody.  Moreover  the  bad 
are  useful  for  bad  purposes ;  "  nail  knocks  out  nail,"  as  the 
proverb  says.  It  is  characteristic  of  a  tyrant  to  dislike  every- 
one who  has  dignity  or  independence ;  he  wants  to  be  alone 
in  his  glory,  but  anyone  who  claims  a  like  dignity  or  asserts 
his  independence  encroaches  upon  his  prerogative,  and  is  hated 
by  him  as  an  enemy  to  his  power.  Another  mark  of  a  tyrant 
is  that  he  likes  foreigners  better  than  citizens,  and  lives  with 
them  and  invites  them  to  his  table;  for  the  one  are  enemies, 
but  the  others  enter  into  no  rivalry  with  him. 

Such  are  the  notes  of  the  tyrant  and  the  arts  by  which  he 
preserves  his  power ;  there  is  no  wickedness  too  great  for  him. 
All  that  we  have  said  may  be  summed  up  under  three  heads, 
which  answer  to  the  three  aims  of  the  tyrant.  These  are,  ( i ) 
the  humiliation  of  his  subjects ;  he  knows  that  a  mean-spirited 
man  will  not  conspire  against  anybody:  (2)  the  creation  of 
mistrust  among  them ;  for  a  tyrant  is  not  overthrown  until 
men  begin  to  have  confidence  in  one  another;  and  this  is  the 
reason  why  tyrants  are  at  war  with  the  ^ood ;  they  are  under 


THE  POLITICS  ^  145 

the  idea  that  their  power  is  endangered  by  them,  not  only  be- 
cause they  will  not  be  ruled  despotically,  but  also  because  they 
are  loyal  to  one  another,  and  to  other  men,  and  do  not  inform 
against  one  another  or  against  other  men:  (3)  the  tyrant 
desires  that  his  subjects  shall  be  incapable  of  action,  for  no 
one  attempts  what  is  impossible,  and  they  will  not  attempt 
to  overthrow  a  tyranny,  if  they  are  powerless.  Under  these 
three  heads  the  whole  policy  of  a  tyrant  may  be  summed  up, 
and  to  one  or  other  of  them  all  his  ideas  may  be  referred: 
(i)  he  sows  distrust  among  his  subjects;  (2)  he  takes  away 
their  power;    (3)  he  humbles  them. 

This  then  is  one  of  the  two  methods  by  which  tyrannies  are 
preserved ;  and  there  is  another  which  proceeds  upon  a  dif- 
ferent principle  of  action.  The  nature  of  this  latter  method 
may  be  gathered  from  a  comparison  of  the  causes  which  de- 
stroy kingdoms,  for  as  one  mode  of  destroying  kingly  power 
is  to  make  the  office  of  king  more  tyrannical,  so  the  salvation 
of  a  tyranny  is  to  make  it  more  like  the  rule  of  a  king.  But 
of  one  thing  the  tyrant  must  be  careful ;  he  must  keep  power 
enough  to  rule  over  his  subjects,  whether  they  like  him  or 
not,  for  if  he  once  gives  this  up  he  gives  up  his  tyranny.  But 
though  power  must  be  retained  as  the  foundation,  in  all  else 
the  tyrant  should  act  or  appear  to  act  in  the  character  of  a 
king.  In  the  first  place  he  should  pretend  a  care  of  the  public 
revenues  and  not  waste  money  in  making  presents  of  a  sort 
at  which  the  common  people  get  excited  -vhen  they  see  their 
miserable  earnings  taken  from  them  and  lav  - -bed  on  courtesans 
and  strangers  and  artists.  He  sh.ould  give  an  account  of  what 
he  receives  and  of  what  he  spends  (a  practice  which  has  been 
adopted  by  some  tyrants)  ;  for  then  he  will  seem  to  be  the 
manager  of  a  household  rather  than  a  tyrant;  nor  need  he 
fear  that,  while  he  is  the  lord  of  the  city,  he  will  ever  be  in 
want  of  money.  Such  a  policy  is  much  more  advantageous 
for  the  tyrant  when  he  goes  from  home,  than  to  leave  behind 
him  a  hoard,  for  then  the  garrison  who  remain  in  the  city 
will  be  less  likely  to  attack  his  power ;  and  a  tyrant,  when  he 
is  absent  from  home,  has  more  reason  to  fear  the  guardians 
of  his  treasure  than  the  citizens,  for  the  one  accompany  him, 
but  the  others  remain  behind.  In  the  second  place,  he  should 
appear  to  collect  taxes  and  to  require  public  services  only  for 
state  purposes,  and  that  he  may  form  a  fund  in  case  of  war, 
xo 


X46  ARISTOTLE 

he  ought  to  make  himself  the  guardian  and  treasurer  of  them, 
as  if  they  belonged,  not  to  him,  but  to  the  public.  He  should 
appear,  not  harsh,  but  dignified,  and  when  men  meet  him 
they  should  look  upon  him  with  reverence,  and  not  with  fear. 
Yet  it  is  hard  for  him  to  be  respected  if  he  inspires  no  respect, 
and  therefore  whatever  virtues  he  may  neglect,  at  least  he 
should  maintain  the  character  of  a  statesman,  and  produce 
the  impression  that  he  is  one.  Neither  he  nor  any  of  his  as- 
sociates should  ever  be  guilty  of  the  least  offence  against 
modesty  towards  the  young  of  either  sex  who  are  his  sub- 
jects, and  the  women  of  his  family  should  observe  a  like  self- 
control  towards  other  women;  the  insolence  of  women  has 
ruined  many  tyrannies.  In  the  indulgence  of  pleasures  he 
should  be  the  opposite  of  our  modern  tyrants,  who  not  only 
begin  at  dawn  and  pass  whole  days  in  sensuality,  but  want 
other  men  to  see  them,  that  they  may  admire  their  happy 
and  blessed  lot.  In  these  things  a  tyrant  should  be  especi- 
ally moderate  or  at  any  rate  should  not  parade  his  vices 
to  the  world;  for  a  drunken  and  drowsy  tyrant  is  soon  de- 
spised and  attacked;  not  so  he  who  is  temperate  and  wide 
awake.  His  conduct  should  be  the  very  reverse  of  nearly 
everything  which  has  been  said  before  about  tyrants.  He  ought 
to  adorn  and  improve  his  city,  as  though  he  were  not  a  tyrant, 
but  the  guardian  of  the  State.  Also  he  should  appear  to  be 
particularly  earnest  in  the  service  of  the  gods;  for  if  men 
think  that  a  ruler  is  religious  and  has  a  reverence  for  the 
gods,  tliey  are  less  afraid  of  suffering  injustice  at  his  hands, 
and  they  are  less  disposed  to  conspire  against  him,  because 
they  believe  him  to  have  the  very  gods  fighting  on  his  side.  At 
the  same  time  his  religion  must  not  be  thought  foolish.  And  he 
should  honor  men  of  merit,  and  make  them  think  that  they 
would  not  be  held  in  more  honor  by  the  citizens  if  they  had 
a  free  government.  The  honor  he  should  distribute  himself, 
but  the  punishment  should  be  inflicted  by  officers  and  courts 
of  law.  It  is  a  precaution  which  is  taken  by  all  monarchs 
not  to  make  one  person  great;  but  if  one,  then  two  or  more 
should  be  raised,  that  they  may  look  sharply  after  one  another. 
If  after  all  some  one  has  to  be  made  great,  he  should  not  be  a 
man  of  bold  spirit ;  for  such  dispositions  are  ever  most  inclined 
to  strike.  And  if  anyone  is  to  be  deprived  of  his  power,  let 
it  be  diminished  gradually,  not  taken  from  him  all  at  once. 


THE   POLITICS  147 

The  tyrant  should  abstain  from  all  outrage ;  in  particular  from 
personal  violence  and  from  wanton  conduct  towards  the  young. 
He  should  be  especially  careful  of  his  behaviour  to  men  who 
are  lovers  of  honor;  for  as  the  lovers  of  money  are  offended 
when  their  property  is  touched,  so  are  the  lovers  of  honor  and 
the  virtuous  when  their  honor  is  affected.  Therefore  a  tyrant 
ought  either  not  to  use  force  at  all ;  or  he  should  be  thought 
only  to  employ  fatherly  correction,  and  not  to  trample  upon 
others — and  his  acquaintance  with  youth  should  be  supposed 
to  arise  from  affection,  and  not  from  the  insolence  of  power, 
and  in  general  he  should  compensate  the  appearance  of  dis- 
honor by  the  increase  of  honor. 

Of  those  who  attempt  assassination  they  are  the  most  dan- 
gerous, and  require  to  be  most  carefully  watched  who  do  not 
care  to  survive,  if  they  effect  their  purpose.  Therefore  special 
precaution  should  be  taken  about  any  who  think  that  either 
they  or  their  relatives  have  been  insulted;  for  when  men  are 
led  away  by  passion  to  assault  others  they  are  regardless  of 
themselves.  As  Heracleitus  says,  "  It  is  difficult  to  fight  against 
anger;    for  a  man  will  buy  revenge  with  life." 

And  whereas  States  consist  of  two  classes,  of  poor  men  and 
of  rich,  the  tyrant  should  lead  both  to  imagine  that  they  are 
preserved  and  prevented  from  harming  one  another  by  his 
rule,  and  whichever  of  the  two  is  stronger  he  should  attach 
to  his  government ;  for,  having  this  advantage,  he  has  no  need 
either  to  emancipate  slaves  or  to  disarm  the  citizens;  either 
party  added  to  the  force  which  he  already  has,  will  make  him 
stronger  than  his  assailants. 

But  enough  of  these  details; — what  should  be  the  general 
policy  of  a  tyrant  is  obvious.  He  ought  to  show  himself  to 
his  subjects  in  the  light,  not  of  a  tyrant,  but  of  the  master  of  a 
household  and  of  a  king.  He  should  not  appropriate  what  is 
theirs,  but  should  be  their  guardian ;  he  should  be  moderate, 
not  extravagant  in  his  way  of  life ;  he  should  be  the  companion 
of  the  notables,  and  the  hero  of  the  multitude.  For  then  his 
rule  will  of  necessity  be  nobler  and  happier,  because  he  will  rule 
over  better  men  whose  spirits  are  not  crushed,  over  men  to 
whom  he  himself  is  not  an  object  of  hatred,  and  of  whom  he  is 
not  afraid.  His  power,  too,  will  be  more  lasting.  Let  his  dis- 
position be  virtuous,  or  at  least  half  virtuous ;  and  if  he  must  be 
wicked,  let  him  be  half  wicked  only. 


148  ARISTOTLE 

Yet  no  forms  of  government  are  so  short-lived  as  oligarchy 
and  tyranny.  The  tyranny  which  lasted  longest  was  that  of 
Orthagoras  and  his  sons  at  Sicyon;  this  continued  for  a  hun- 
dred years.  The  reason  was  that  they  treated  their  subjects 
with  moderation,  and  to  a  great  extent  observed  the  laws ;  and 
in  various  ways  gained  the  favor  of  the  people  by  the  care  which 
they  took  of  them.  Cleisthenes,  in  particular,  was  respected 
for  his  military  ability.  If  report  may  be  believed,  he  crowned 
the  judge  who  decided  against  him  in  the  games;  and,  as  some 
say,  the  sitting  statue  in  the  Agora  of  Sicyon  is  the  likeness  of 
this  person.  (A  similar  story  is  told  of  Pisistratus,  who  is 
said  on  one  occasion  to  have  allowed  himself  to  be  summoned 
and  tried  before  the  Areopagus.) 

Next  in  duration  to  the  tyranny  of  Orthagoras  was  that  of 
the  Cypselidae  at  Corinth,  which  lasted  seventy-three  years  and 
six  months:  Cypselus  reigned  thirty  years,  Periander  forty- 
four,  and  Psammetichus  the  son  of  Gordius  three.  Their  con- 
tinuance was  due  to  similar  causes :  Cypselus  was  a  popular 
man,  who  during  the  whole  time  of  his  rule  never  had  a  body- 
guard; and  Periander,  although  he  was  a  tyrant,  was  a  great 
soldier.  Third  in  duration  was  the  rule  of  the  Pisistratidae  at 
Athens,  but  it  was  interrupted;  for  Pisistratus  was  twice 
driven  out,  so  that  during  three  and  thirty  years  he  reigned  only 
seventeen ;  and  his  sons  reigned  eighteen — altogether  thirty-five 
years.  Of  other  tyrannies,  that  of  Hiero  and  Gelo  at  Syracuse 
was  the  most  lasting.  Even  this,  however,  was  short,  not  more 
than  eighteen  years  in  all ;  for  Gelo  continued  tyrant  for  seven 
years,  and  died  in  the  eighth ;  Hiero  reigned  for  ten  years,  and 
Thrasybulus  was  driven  out  in  the  eleventh  month.  In  fact, 
tyrannies  generally  have  been  of  quite  short  duration. 

I  have  now  gone  through  all  the  causes  by  which  constitu- 
tional governments  and  monarchies  are  either  destroyed  or 
preserved. 

In  the  **  Republic  "  of  Plato,^  Socrates  treats  of  revolutions, 
but  not  well,  for  he  mentions  no  cause  of  change  which  pecu- 
liarly affects  the  first  or  perfect  State.  He  only  says  that  noth- 
ing is  abiding,  but  that  all  things  change  in  a  certain  cycle ;  and 
that  the  origin  of  the  change  is  a  base  of  numbers  which  are  in 
the  ratio  of  four  to  three,  and  this  when  combined  with  a  figure 
of  five  gives  two  harmonies — (he  means  when  the  number  of 

h  Rep.  viii.  546. 


THE   POLITICS  149 

this  figure  becomes  solid)  ;  he  conceives  that  nature  will  then 
produce  bad  men  who  will  not  submit  to  education;  in  which 
latter  particular  he  may  very  likely  be  not  far  wrong,  for  there 
may  well  be  some  men  who  cannot  be  educated  and  made  virtu- 
ous. But  why  is  such  a  cause  of  change  peculiar  to  his  ideal 
State,  and  not  rather  common  to  all  States,  nay,  to  everything 
which  comes  into  being  at  all?  Or  how  is  the  State  specially 
changed  by  the  agency  of  time,  which,  as  he  declares,  makes  all 
things  change?  And  things  which  did  not  begin  together, 
change  together,  for  example,  if  something  has  come  into  being 
the  day  before  the  completion  of  the  cycle,  it  will  change  with 
it.  Further,  why  should  the  perfect  state  change  into  the  Spar- 
tan ?  For  governments  more  often  take  an  opposite  form  than 
one  akin  to  them.  The  same  remark  is  applicable  to  the  other 
changes ;  he  says  that  the  Spartan  constitution  changes  into  an 
oligarchy,  and  this  into  a  democracy,  and  this  again  into  a 
tyranny.  And  yet  the  contrary  happens  quite  as  often ;  for  a 
democracy  is  even  more  likely  to  change  into  an  oligarchy  than 
into  a  monarchy.  Further,  he  never  says  whether  tyranny  is, 
or  is  not,  liable  to  revolutions,  and  if  it  is,  what  is  the  cause 
of  them,  or  into  what  form  it  changes.  And  the  reason  is,  that 
he  could  not  very  well  have  told :  for  there  is  no  rule ;  according 
to  him  it  should  revert  to  the  first  and  best,  and  then  there  would 
be  a  complete  cycle.  But  in  point  of  fact  a  tyranny  often  changes 
into  a  tyranny,  as  that  at  Sicyon  changed  from  the  tyranny 
of  Myron  into  that  of  Cleisthenes ;  into  oligarchy,  as  the  tyranny 
of  Antileon  did  at  Chalcis ;  into  democracy,  as  that  of  Gelo  did 
at  Syracuse ;  into  aristocracy,  as  at  Carthage,  and  the  tyranny 
of  Charilaus  at  Lacedaemon.  Often  an  oligarchy  changes  into 
a  tyranny,  like  most  of  the  ancient  oligarchies  in  Sicily ;  for  ex- 
ample, the  oligarchy  at  Leontini  changed  into  the  tyranny  of 
Pansetius;  that  at  Gela  into  the  tyranny  of  Cleander;  that  at 
Rhegium  into  the  tyranny  of  Anaxilaus ;  the  same  thing  has 
happened  in  many  other  States.  And  it  is  absurd  to  suppose 
that  the  State  changes  into  oligarchy  merely  because,  [as  Plato 
says,*]  the  ruling  class  are  lovers  and  makers  of  money,  and 
not  because  the  very  rich  think  it  unfair  that  the  very  poor 
should  have  an  equal  share  in  the  government  with  themselves. 
Moreover  in  many  oligarchies  there  are  laws  against  making 
money  in  trade.  But  at  Carthage,  which  is  a  democracy,  there 
i  Rep.  viii.  550  E. 


ISO 


ARISTOTLE 


is  no  such  prohibition;  and  yet  to  this  day  the  Carthaginians 
have  never  had  a  revolution.  It  is  absurd,  too,  for  him  to  say 
that  an  ohgarchy  is  two  cities,  one  of  the  rich,  and  the  other  of 
the  poor./  Is  not  this  just  as  much  the  case  in  the  Spartan  con- 
stitution, or  in  any  other  in  which  either  all  do  not  possess  equal 
property,  or  in  which  all  are  not  equally  good  men?  Nobody 
need  be  any  poorer  than  he  was  before,  and  yet  the  oligarchy 
may  change  all  the  same  into  a  democracy,  if  the  poor  form  the 
majority;  and  a  democracy  may  change  into  an  oligarchy,  if 
the  wealthy  class  are  stronger  than  the  people,  and  the  one  are 
energetic,  the  other  indifferent.  Once  more,  although  the 
causes  of  revolutions  are  very  numerous,  he  mentions  only  one,^ 
which  is,  that  the  citizens  become  poor  through  dissipation  and 
debt,  as  though  he  thought  that  all,  or  the  majority  of  them, 
were  originally  rich.  This  is  not  true :  though  it  is  true  that 
when  any  of  the  leaders  lose  their  property  they  are  ripe  for 
revolution ;  but,  when  anybody  else,  it  is  no  great  matter.  And 
an  oligarchy  does  not  more  often  pass  into  a  democracy  than 
into  any  other  form  of  government.  Again,  if  men  are  de- 
prived of  the  honors  of  State,  and  are  wronged,  and  insulted, 
they  make  revolutions,  and  change  forms  of  government,  even 
although  they  have  not  wasted  their  substance  because  they 
might  do  what  they  liked — of  which  extravagance  he  declares 
excessive  freedom  to  be  the  cause./ 

Finally,  although  there  are  many  forms  of  oligarchies  and 
democracies,  Socrates  speaks  of  their  revolutions  as  though 
there  were  only  one  form  of  either  of  them. 

/Rep.  viii.  S5i  »•  Jk  Ibid.,  555  D.  Hbid.,  564. 


BOOK  VI 

WE  have  now  considered  the  varieties  of  the  deliberative 
or  supreme  power  in  States,  and  the  various  arrange- 
ments of  law  courts  and  State  offices,  and  which  of 
them  are  adapted  to  different  forms  of  government.  We  have 
also  spoken  of  the  destruction  and  preservation  of  States,  how 
and  from  what  causes  they  arise. 

Of  democracy  and  all  other  forms  of  government  there  are 
many  kinds ;  and  it  will  be  well  to  assign  to  them  severally  the 
modes  of  organization  which  are  proper  and  advantageous  to 
each,  adding  what  remains  to  be  said  about  them.  Moreover, 
we  ought  to  consider  the  various  combinations  of  these  modes 
themselves;  for  such  combinations  make  constitutions  overlap 
one  another,  so  that  aristocracies  have  an  oligarchical  character, 
and  constitutional  governments  incline  to  democracies. 

When  I  speak  of  the  combinations  which  remain  to  be  con- 
sidered, and  thus  far  have  not  been  considered  by  us,  I  mean 
such  as  these : — when  the  deliberative  part  of  the  government 
and  the  election  of  officers  is  constituted  oligarchically,  and  the 
law  courts  aristocratically,  or  when  the  courts  and  the  delibera- 
tive part  of  the  State  are  oligarchical,  and  the  election  to  offices 
aristocratical,  or  when  in  any  other  way  there  is  a  want  of 
harmony  in  the  composition  of  a  State. 

I  have  shown  already  what  forms  of  democracy  are  suited 
to  particular  cities,  and  what  of  oligarchy  to  particular  peoples, 
and  to  whom  each  of  the  other  forms  of  government  is  suited. 
Further,  we  must  not  only  show  which  of  these  governments 
is  the  best  for  each  State,  but  also  briefly  proceed  to  consider 
how  these  and  other  forms  of  government  are  to  be  established. 

First  of  all  let  us  speak  of  democracy,  which  will  also  bring 
to  light  the  opposite  form  of  government  commonly  called 
oligarchy.  For  the  purposes  of  this  inquiry  we  need  to  ascer- 
tain all  the  elements  and  characteristics  of  democracy,  since 
from  the  combinations  of  these  the  varieties  of  democratic 

151 


15* 


ARISTOTLE 


government  arise.  There  are  several  of  these  differing  from 
each  other,  and  the  difference  is  due  to  two  causes.  One  ( i ) 
has  been  already  mentioned — differences  of  population ;  for 
the  popular  element  may  consist  of  husbandmen,  or  of  me- 
chanics, or  of  laborers,  and  if  the  first  of  these  be  added  to  the 
second,  or  the  third  to  the  two  others,  not  only  does  the  democ- 
racy become  better  or  worse,  but  its  very  nature  is  changed.  .A 
second  cause  (2)  remains  to  be  mentioned:  the  various  proper^, 
ties  and  characteristics  of  democracy,  when  variously  combined, 
make  a  difference.  For  one  democracy  will  have  less  and  an- 
other will  have  more,  and  another  will  have  all  of  these  charac- 
teristics. There  is  an  advantage  in  knowing  them  all,  whether 
a  man  wishes  to  establish  some  new  form  of  democracy,  or  only 
to  remodel  an  existing  one.  Founders  of  States  try  to  bring 
together  all  the  elements  which  accord  with  the  ideas  of  the 
several  constitutions ;  but  this  is  a  mistake  of  theirs,  as  I  have 
already  remarked  when  speaking  of  the  destruction  and  preser- 
vation of  States.  We  will  now  set  forth  the  principles,  char- 
acteristics, and  aims  of  such  States. 

The  basis  of  a  democratic  State  is  liberty ;  which,  according 
to  the  common  opinion  of  men,  can  only  be  enjoyed  in  such  a 
State; — this  they  affirm  to  be  the  great  end  of  every  democ- 
racy.o  One  principle  of  liberty  is  for  all  to  rule  and  be  ruled 
in  turn,  and  indeed  democratic  justice  is  the  application  of 
numerical  not  proportionate  equality;  whence  it  follows  that 
the  majority  must  be  supreme,  and  that  whatever  the  majority 
approve  must  be  the  end  and  the  just.  Every  citizen,  it  is 
said,  must  have  equality,  and  therefore  in  a  democracy  the  poor 
have  more  power  than  the  rich,  because  there  are  more  of  them, 
and  the  will  of  the  majority  is  supreme.  This,  then,  is  one 
note  of  liberty  which  all  democrats  affirm  to  be  the  principle 
of  their  State.  Another  is  that  a  man  should  live  as  he  likes. 
This,  they  say,  is  the  privilege  of  a  freeman,  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  not  to  live  as  a  man  likes  is  the  mark  of  a  slave.  This 
is  the  second  characteristic  of  democracy,  whence  has  arisen 
the  claim  of  men  to  be  ruled  by  none,  if  possible,  or,  if  this 
is  impossible,  to  rule  and  be  ruled  in  turns;  and  so  it  coin- 
cides with  the  freedom  based  upon  equality  [which  was  the 
first  characteristic]. 

Such  being  our  foundation  and  such  the  nature  of  democracy, 
a  Cp.  Plato,  Rep.  viii.  557  foil. 


THE  POLITICS 


153 


its  characteristics  are  as  follows: — the  election  of  officers  by 
all  out  of  all;  and  that  all  should  rule  over  each,  and  each  in 
his  turn  over  all ;  that  the  appointment  to  all  offices,  or  to  all  but 
those  which  require  experience  and  skill,  should  be  made  by 
lot ;  that  no  property  qualification  should  be  required  for 
offices,  or  only  a  very  low  one;  that  no  one  should  hold  the 
same  office  twice,  or  not  often  except  in  the  case  of  military 
offices ;  that  the  tenure  of  all  offices,  or  of  as  many  as  possible, 
should  be  brief;  that  all  men  should  sit  in  judgment,  or  that 
judges  selected  out  of  all  should  judge  in  all  matters,  or  in 
most,  or  in  the  greatest  and  most  important — such  as  the 
scrutiny  of  accounts,  the  constitution,  and  private  contracts ; 
that  the  assembly  should  be  supreme  over  all  causes,  or  at 
any  rate  over  the  most  important,  and  the  magistrates  over 
none  or  only  over  a  very  few.  Of  all  institutions,  a  council 
is  the  most  democratic  when  there  is  not  the  means  of  pay- 
ing all  the  citizens,  but  when  they  are  paid  even  this  is  robbed 
of  its  power ;  for  the  people  then  draw  all  cases  to  themselves, 
as  I  said  in  the  previous  discussion.  The  next  characteristic  of 
democracy  is  payment  for  services;  assembly,  law  courts, 
magistrates,  everybody  receives  pay,  when  it  is  to  be  had; 
or  when  it  is  not  to  be  had  for  all,  then  it  is  given  to  the  law 
courts  and  to  the  stated  assemblies,  to  the  council  and  to  the 
magistrates,  or  at  least  to  any  of  them  who  are  compelled 
to  have  their  meals  together.  And  whereas  oligarchy  is  char- 
acterized by  birth,  wealth,  and  education,  the  notes  of  de- 
mocracy appear  to  be  the  opposite  of  these — low  birth,  poverty, 
mean  employment.  Another  note  is  that  no  magistracy  is 
perpetual,  but  if  any  such  have  survived  some  ancient  change 
in  the  constitution  it  should  be  stripped  of  its  power,  and  the 
holders  should  be  elected  by  lot  and  no  longer  by  vote.  These 
are  points  common  to  all  democracies;  but  democracy  and 
demos  in  their  truest  form  are  based  upon  the  recognized  prin- 
ciple of  democratic  justice,  that  all  should  count  equally;  for 
equality  implies  that  the  rich  should  have  no  more  share  in 
the  government  than  the  poor,  and  should  not  be  the  only 
rulers,  but  that  all  should  rule  equally  according  to  their  num- 
bers. And  in  this  way  men  think  that  they  will  secure  equality 
and  freedom  in  their  State. 

Next  comes  the  question,  how  is  this  equality  to  be  obtained  ? 
Is  the  qualification  to  be  so  distributed  that  five  hundred 


»54 


ARISTOTLE 


rich  shall  be  equal  to  a  thousand  poor?  and  shall  we  give  the 
thousand  a  power  equal  to  that  of  the  five  hundred  ?  or,  if  this 
is  not  to  be  the  mode,  ought  we,  still  retaining  the  same  ratio, 
to  take  equal  numbers  from  each  and  give  them  the  contrQl  of 
the  elections  and  of  the  courts? — Which,  according  to  the 
democratical  notion,  is  the  juster  form  of  the  constitution — 
this  or  one  based  on  numbers  only?  Democrats  say  that  jus- 
tice is  that  to  which  the  majority  agree,  oligarchs  that  to 
which  the  wealthier  class ;  in  their  opinion  the  decision  should 
be  given  according  to  the  amount  of  property.  In  both  prin- 
ciples there  is  some  inequality  and  injustice.  For  if  justice 
is  the  will  of  the  few,  any  one  person  who  has  more  wealth 
than  all  the  rest  of  his  class  put  together,  ought,  upon  the 
oligarchical  principle,  to  have  the  sole  power — but  this  would 
be  tyranny ;  or  if  justice  is  the  will  of  the  majority,  as  I  was 
before  saying,  they  will  unjustly  confiscate  the  property  of 
the  wealthy  minority.  To  find  a  principle  of  equality  in  which 
they  both  agree  we  must  inquire  into  their  respective  ideas 
of  justice. 

Now  they  agree  in  saying  that  whatever  is  decided  by  the 
majority  of  the  citizens  is  to  be  deemed  law.  Granted : — but 
not  without  some  reserve;  since  there  are  two  classes  out  of 
which  a  State  is  composed — the  poor  and  the  rich — that  is 
to  be  deemed  law,  on  which  both  or  the  greater  part  of  both 
agree;  and  if  they  disagree,  that  which  is  approved  by  the 
greater  number,  and  by  those  who  have  the  higher  qualifica- 
tion. For  example,  suppose  that  there  are  ten  rich  and  twenty 
poor,  and  some  measure  is  approved  by  six  of  the  rich  and  is 
disapproved  by  fifteen  of  the  poor,  and  the  remaining  four  of 
the  rich  join  with  the  party  of  the  poor,  and  the  remaining 
five  of  the  poor  with  that  of  the  rich ;  in  such  a  case  the  will 
of  those  whose  qualifications,  when  both  sides  are  added  up, 
are  the  greatest,  should  prevail.  If  they  turn  out  to  be  equal, 
there  is  no  greater  difficulty  than  at  present,  when,  if  the 
assembly  or  the  courts  are  divided,  recourse  is  had  to  the  lot, 
or  to  some  similar  expedient.  But,  although  it  may  be  diffi- 
cult in  theory  to  know  what  is  just  and  equal,  the  practical 
difficulty  of  inducing  those  to  forbear  who  can,  if  they  like, 
encroach,  is  far  greater,  for  the  weaker  are  always  asking 
for  equality  and  justice,  but  the  stronger  b  care  for  none  of 
these  things. 

b  Or,  "  care  nothing  for  the  weaker." 


THE  POLITICS  155 

Of  the  four  kinds  of  democracy,  as  was  said  in  the  previous 
discussion,  the  best  is  that  which  comes  first  in  order;  it  is 
also  the  oldest  of  them  all.  I  am  speaking  of  them  according 
to  the  natural  classification  of  their  inhabitants.  For  the  best 
material  of  democracy  is  an  agricultural  population;  there  is 
no  difficulty  in  forming  a  democracy  where  the  mass  of  the 
people  live  by  agriculture  or  tending  of  cattle.  Being  poor, 
they  have  no  leisure,  and  therefore  do  not  often  attend  the 
assembly,  and  not  having  the  necessaries  of  life  they  are 
always  at  work,  and  do  not  covet  the  property  of  others.  In- 
deed, they  find  their  employment  pleasanter  than  the  cares  of 
government  or  office  where  no  great  gains  can  be  made  out 
of  them,  for  the  many  are  more  desirous  of  gain  than  of  honor. 
A  proof  is  that  even  the  ancient  tyrannies  were  patiently  en- 
dured by  them,  as  they  still  endure  oligarchies,  if  they  are 
allowed  to  work  and  are  not  deprived  of  their  property ;  for 
some  of  them  grow  quickly  rich  and  the  others  are  well  enough 
off.  Moreover  they  have  the  power  of  electing  the  magistrates 
and  calling  them  to  account ;  their  ambition,  if  they  have  any, 
is  thus  satisfied ;  and  in  some  democracies,  although  they  do 
not  all  share  in  the  appointment  of  offices,  except  through 
representatives  elected  in  turn  out  of  the  whole  people,  as  at 
Mantinea; — yet,  if  they  have  the  power  of  deliberating,  the 
many  are  contented.  Even  this  form  of  government  may  be 
regarded  as  a  democracy,  and  was  such  at  Mantinea.  Hence  it 
is  both  expedient  and  customary  in  such  a  democracy  that  all 
should  elect  to  offices,  and  conduct  scrutinies,  and  sit  in  the 
law  courts,  but  that  the  great  offices  should  be  filled  up  by 
election  and  from  persons  having  a  qualification ;  the  g^reater 
requiring  a  greater  qualification,  or,  if  there  be  no  offices 
for  which  a  qualification  is  required,  then  those  who  are 
marked  out  by  special  ability  should  be  appointed.  Under 
such  a  form  of  government  the  citizens  are  sure  to  be  gov- 
erned well  (for  the  offices  will  always  be  held  by  the  best  per- 
sons; the  people  are  willing  enough  to  elect  them  and  are 
not  jealous  of  the  good).  The  good  and  the  notables  will 
then  be  satisfied,  for  they  will  not  be  governed  by  men  who 
are  their  inferiors,  and  the  persons  elected  will  rule  justly, 
because  others  will  call  them  to  account.  Every  man  should 
be  responsible  to  others,  nor  should  anyone  be  allowed  to  do 
just  as  he  pleases;    for  where  absolute  freedom  is  allowed 


156  ARISTOTLE 

there  is  nothing  to  restrain  the  evil  which  is  inherent  in  every 
man.  But  the  principle  of  responsibility  secures  that  which 
is  the  greatest  good  in  States ;  the  right  persons  rule  and  are 
prevented  from  doing  wrong,  and  the  people  have  their  due. 
It  is  evident  that  this  is  the  best  kind  of  democracy,  and  why? 
because  the  people  are  drawn  from  a  certain  class.  The  ancient 
laws  of  many  States  which  aimed  at  making  the  people  hus- 
bandmen were  excellent.  They  provided  either  that  no  one 
should  possess  more  than  a  certain  quantity  of  land,  or  that,  if 
he  did,  the  land  should  not  be  within  a  certain  distance  from 
the  town  or  the  acropolis.  Formerly  in  many  States  there  was 
a  law  forbidding  anyone  to  sell  his  original  allotment  of  land. 
There  is  a  similar  law  attributed  to  Oxylus,  which  is  to  the 
effect  that  there  should  be  a  certain  portion  of  every  man's 
property  on  which  he  could  not  borrow  money.  A  useful  cor- 
rective to  the  evil  of  which  I  am  speaking  would  be  the  law 
of  the  Aphytaeans,  who,  although  they  are  numerous,  and  do 
not  possess  much  land,  are  all  of  them  husbandmen.  For 
their  properties  are  reckoned  in  the  census,  not  entire,  but 
only  in  such  small  portions  that  even  the  poor  may  have  more 
than  the  amount  required. 

Next  best  to  an  agricultural,  and  in  many  respects  similar, 
are  a  pastoral  people,  who  live  by  their  flocks ;  they  are  the 
best  trained  of  any  for  war,  robust  in  body  and  able  to  camp 
out.  The  people  of  whom  other  democracies  consist  are  far 
inferior  to  them,  for  their  life  is  inferior ;  there  is  no  room 
for  moral  excellence  in  any  of  their  employments,  whether 
they  be  mechanics  or  traders  or  laborers.  Besides,  people  of 
this  class  can  readily  come  to  the  assembly,  because  they  are 
continually  moving  about  in  the  city  and  in  the  agora;  whereas 
husbandmen  are  scattered  over  the  country  and  do  not  meet, 
or  equally  feel  the  want  of  assembling  together.  Where  the 
territory  extends  to  a  distance  from  the  city,  there  is  no  diffi- 
culty in  making  an  excellent  democracy  or  constitutional  gov- 
ernment ;  for  the  people  are  compelled  to  settle  in  the  country, 
and  even  if  there  is  a  town  population  the  assembly  ought  not 
to  meet  when  the  country  people  cannot  come.  We  have  thus 
explained  how  the  first  and  best  form  of  democracy  should 
be  constituted;  it  is  clear  that  the  other  or  inferior  sorts  will 
deviate  in  a  regular  order,  and  the  population  which  is  ex- 
cluded will  at  each  stage  be  of  a  lower  kind. 


THE  POLITICS  157 

The  last  form  of  democracy,  that  in  which  all  share  alike, 
is  one  which  cannot  be  borne  by  all  States,  and  will  not  last 
long  unless  well  regulated  by  laws  and  customs.  The  more 
general  causes  which  tend  to  destroy  this  or  other  kinds  of 
government  have  now  been  pretty  fully  considered.  In  order 
to  constitute  such  a  democracy  and  strengthen  the  people,  the 
leaders  have  been  in  the  habit  of  including  as  many  as  they 
can,  and  making  citizens  not  only  of  those  who  are  legitimate, 
but  even  of  the  illegitimate,  and  of  those  who  have  only  one 
parent  a  citizen,  whether  father  or  mother;  for  nothing  of 
this  sort  comes  amiss  to  such  a  democracy.  This  is  the  way 
in  which  demagogues  proceed.  Whereas  the  right  thing  would 
be  to  make  no  more  additions  when  the  number  of  the  com- 
monalty exceeds  that  of  the  notables  or  of  the  middle  class — 
beyond  this  not  to  go.  When  in  excess  of  this  point  the 
State  becomes  disorderly,  and  the  notables  grow  excited  and 
impatient  of  the  democracy,  as  in  the  insurrection  at  Cyrene; 
for  no  notice  is  taken  of  a  little  evil,  but  when  it  increases  it 
strikes  the  eye.  Measures  like  those  which  Cleisthenes  passed 
when  he  wanted  to  increase  the  power  of  the  democracy  at 
Athens,  or  such  as  were  taken  by  the  founders  of  popular  gov- 
ernment at  Cyrene,  are  useful  in  the  extreme  form  of  democ- 
racy. Fresh  tribes  and  brotherhoods  should  be  established ;  the 
private  rites  of  families  should  be  restricted  and  converted  into 
public  ones ;  in  short,  every  contrivance  should  be  adopted 
which  will  mingle  the  citizens  with  one  another  and  get  rid  of  old 
connections.  Again,  the  measures  which  are  taken  by  tyrants 
appear  all  of  them  to  be  democratic ;  such,  for  instance,  as  the 
license  permitted  to  slaves  (which  may  be  to  a  certain  extent 
advantageous)  and  also  that  of  women  and  children,  and  the 
allowing  everybody  to  live  as  he  likes.  Such  a  government 
will  have  many  supporters,  for  most  persons  would  rather  live 
in  a  disorderly  than  in  a  sober  manner. 

The  mere  establishment  of  a  democracy  is  not  the  only  or 
principal  business  of  the  legislator,  or  of  those  who  wish  to 
create  such  a  state,  for  any  State,  however  badly  constituted, 
may  last  one,  two,  or  three  days;  a  far  greater  difficulty  is 
the  preservation  of  it.  The  legislator  should  therefore  en- 
deavor to  have  a  firm  foundation  according  to  the  principles 
already  laid  down  concerning  the  presers^ation  and  destruction 
of  States;   he  should  guard  against  the  destructive  elements, 


158  ARISTOTLE 

and  should  make  laws,  whether  written  or  unwritten,  which 
will  contain  all  the  preservatives  of  States.  He  must  not  think 
the  truly  democratical  or  oligarchical  measure  to  be  that  which 
will  give  the  greatest  amount  of  democracy  or  oligarchy,  but 
that  which  will  make  them  last  longest.  The  demagogues  of 
our  own  day  often  get  property  confiscated  in  the  law  courts 
in  order  to  please  the  people.  But  those  who  have  the  welfare 
of  the  State  at  heart  should  counteract  them,  and  make  a 
law  that  the  property  of  the  condemned  which  goes  into  the 
treasure  should  not  be  public  but  sacred.  Thus  offenders  will 
be  as  much  afraid,  for  they  will  be  punished  all  the  same,  and 
the  people,  having  nothing  to  gain,  will  not  be  so  ready  to 
condemn  the  accused.  Care  should  also  be  taken  that  State  trials 
are  as  few  as  possible,  and  heavy  penalties  should  be  inflicted 
on  those  who  bring  groundless  accusations;  for  it  is  the 
practice  to  indict,  not  members  of  the  popular  party,  but  the 
notables,  although  the  citizens  ought  to  be  all  equally  attached 
to  the  State,  or  at  any  rate  should  not  regard  their  rulers  as 
enemies. 

Now,  since  in  the  last  and  worst  form  of  democracy  the 
citizens  are  very  numerous,  and  can  hardly  be  made  to  as- 
semble unless  they  are  paid,  and  to  pay  them  when  there  are 
no  revenues  presses  hardly  upon  the  notables  (for  the  money 
must  be  obtained  by  a  property  tax  and  confiscations  and  cor- 
rupt practices  of  the  courts,  things  which  have  before  now 
overthrown  many  democracies)  ;  where,  I  say,  there  are  no 
revenues,  the  government  should  hold  few  assemblies,  and  the 
law  courts  should  consist  of  many  persons,  but  sit  for  a  few 
days  only.  This  system  has  two  advantages:  first,  the  rich 
do  not  fear  the  expense,  even  although  they  are  unpaid  them- 
selves when  the  poor  are  paid ;  and  secondly,  causes  are  better 
tried,  for  wealthy  persons,  although  they  do  not  like  to  be 
long  absent  from  their  own  affairs,  do  not  mind  going  for 
a  few  days  to  the  law  courts.  Where  there  are  revenues  the 
demagogues  should  not  be  allowed  after  their  manner  to  dis- 
tribute the  surplus ;  the  poor  are  always  receiving  and  always 
wanting  more  and  more,  for  such  help  is  like  water  poured 
into  a  leaky  cask.  Yet  the  true  friend  of  the  people  should 
see  that  they  be  not  too  poor,  for  extreme  poverty  lowers  the 
character  of  the  democracy ;  measures  also  should  be  taken 
which  will  give  them  lasting  prosperity ;  and  as  this  is  equally 


THE   POLITICS  159 

the  interest  of  all  classes,  the  proceeds  of  the  public  revenues 
should  be  accumulated  and  distributed  among  them,  if  pos- 
sible, in  such  quantities  as  may  enable  them  to  purchase  a 
little  farm,  or,  at  any  rate,  make  a  beginning  in  trade  and  hus- 
bandry. And  if  this  benevolence  cannot  be  extended  to  all, 
money  should  be  distributed  in  turn  according  to  tribes  or 
other  divisions,  and  in  the  mean  time  the  rich  should  pay  the 
fee  for  the  attendance  of  the  poor  at  the  necessary  assemblies ; 
and  should  in  return  be  excused  from  useless  public  services. 
By  administering  the  State  in  this  spirit  the  Carthaginians 
retain  the  affections  of  the  people ;  their  policy  is  from  time  to 
time  to  send  some  of  them  into  their  dependent  towns,  where 
they  grow  rich.  It  is  also  worthy  of  a  generous  and  sensible 
nobility  to  divide  the  poor  amongst  them,  and  give  them  the 
means  of  going  to  work.  The  example  of  the  people  of  Taren- 
tum  is  also  well  deserving  of  imitation,  for,  by  sharing  the 
use  of  their  own  property  with  the  poor,  they  gain  their  good 
will.  Moreover,  they  divide  all  their  offices  into  two  classes, 
one-half  of  them  being  elected  by  vote,  the  other  by  lot;  the 
latter,  that  the  people  may  participate  in  them,  and  the  former, 
that  the  State  may  be  better  administered.  A  like  result  may 
be  gained  by  dividing  the  same  offices,  so  as  to  have  two  classes 
of  magistrates,  one  chosen  by  vote,  the  other  by  lot. 

Enough  has  been  said  of  the  manner  in  which  democracies 
ought  to  be  constituted. 

From  these  considerations  there  will  be  no  difficulty  in  see- 
ing what  should  be  the  constitution  of  oligarchies.  We  have 
only  to  reason  from  opposites  and  compare  each  form  of 
oligarchy  with  the  corresponding  form  of  democracy. 

The  first  and  best  attempered  of  oligarchies  is  akin  to  a  con- 
stitutional government.  In  this  there  ought  to  be  two  stand- 
ards of  qualification ;  the  one  high,  the  other  low — the  lower 
qualifying  for  the  humbler  yet  indispensable  offices  and  the 
higher  for  the  superior  ones.  He  who  acquires  the  prescribed 
qualification  should  have  the  rights  of  citizenship.  The  nature 
of  those  admitted  should  be  such  as  will  make  the  entire  gov- 
erning body  stronger  than  those  who  are  excluded,  and  the 
new  citizen  should  be  always  taken  out  of  the  better  class  of 
the  people.  The  principle,  narrowed  a  little,  gives  another 
form  of  oligarchy ;  until  at  length  we  reach  the  most  cliquish 
and  tyrannical  of  them  all,  answering  to  the  extreme  democ- 


i6o  ARISTOTLE 

racy,  which,  being  the  worst,  requires  vigilance  in  proportion 
to  its  badness.  For  as  healthy  bodies  and  ships  well  provided 
with  sailors  may  undergo  many  mishaps  and  survive  them, 
whereas  sickly  constitutions  and  rotten  ill-manned  ships  are 
ruined  by  the  very  least  mistake,  so  do  the  worst  forms  of 
government  require  the  greatest  care.  The  populousness  of 
democracies  generally  preserves  them  (for  number  is  to  de- 
mocracy in  the  place  of  justice  based  on  proportion)  ;  whereas 
the  preservation  of  an  oligarchy  clearly  depends  on  an  op- 
posite principle,  viz.,  good  order. 

As  there  are  four  chief  divisions  of  the  common  people — 
husbandmen,  mechanics,  retail  traders,  laborers ;  so  also  there 
are  four  kinds  of  military  forces — the  cavalry,  the  heavy  in- 
fantry, the  light-armed  troops,  the  navy.  When  the  country 
is  adapted  for  cavalry,  then  a  strong  oligarchy  is  likely  to  be 
established.  For  the  security  of  the  inhabitants  depends  upon 
a  force  of  this  sort,  and  only  rich  men  can  afford  to  keep 
horses.  The  second  form  of  oligarchy  prevails  when  there 
are  heavy  infantry;  for  this  service  is  better  suited  to  the 
rich  than  to  the  poor.  But  the  light-armed  and  the  naval  ele- 
ment are  wholly  democratic;  and  nowadays,  when  they  are 
so  numerous,  if  the  two  parties  quarrel,  the  oligarchy  are 
often  worsted  by  them  in  the  struggle.  A  remedy  for  this 
state  of  things  may  be  found  in  the  practice  of  generals  who 
combine  a  proper  contingent  of  light-armed  troops,  with  cav- 
alry and  heavy-armed.  And  this  is  the  way  in  which  the 
poor  get  the  better  of  the  rich  in  civil  contests ;  being  lightly 
armed,  they  fight  with  advantage  against  cavalry  and  heavy 
infantry.  An  oligarchy  which  raises  such  a  force  out  of  the 
lower  classes  raises  power  against  itself.  And  therefore,  since 
the  ages  of  the  citizens  vary  and  some  are  older  and  some 
younger,  the  fathers  should  have  their  own  sons,  while  they 
are  still  young,  taught  the  agile  movements  of  light-armed 
troops ;  and  some,  when  they  grow  up,  should  be  selected  out 
of  the  youth,  and  become  light-armed  warriors  in  reality.  The 
oligarchy  should  also  yield  a  share  in  the  government  to  the 
people,  either,  as  I  said  before,  to  those  who  have  a  property 
qualification,  or,  as  in  the  case  of  Thebes,  to  those  who  have 
abstained  for  a  certain  number  of  years  from  mean  employ- 
ments, or,  as  at  Massalia,  to  men  of  merit  who  are  selected 
for  their  worthiness,  whether    [previously]    citizens  or  not. 


THE   POLITICS  i6i 

The  magistracies  of  the  highest  rank,  which  ought  to  be  in 
the  hands  of  the  governing  body,  should  have  expensive  duties 
attached  to  them,  and  then  the  people  will  not  desire  them 
and  will  take  no  offence  at  the  privileges  of  their  rulers  when 
they  see  that  they  pay  a  heavy  fine  for  their  dignity.  It  is 
fitting  also  that  the  magistrates  on  entering  office  should  offer 
magnificent  sacrifices  or  erect  some  public  edifice,  and  then 
the  people  who  participate  in  the  entertainments,  and  like  to 
see  the  city  decorated  with  votive  offerings  and  buildings, 
will  not  desire  an  alteration  in  the  government,  and  the  notables 
will  have  memorials  of  their  munificence.  This,  however,  is 
anything  but  the  fashion  of  our  modem  oligarchs,  who  are 
as  covetous  of  gain  as  they  are  of  honor;  oligarchies  like 
theirs  may  be  well  described  as  petty  democracies.  Enough 
of  the  manner  in  which  democracies  and  oligarchies  should 
be  organized. 

Next  in  order  follows  the  right  distribution  of  offices,  their 
number,  their  nature,  their  duties,  of  which  indeed  we  have 
already  spoken.  No  State  can  exist  not  having  the  necessary 
offices,  and  no  State  can  be  well  administered  not  having  the 
offices  which  tend  to  preserve  harmony  and  good  order.  In 
small  States,  as  we  have  already  remarked,  there  need  not  be 
many  of  them,  but  in  larger  there  must  be  a  larger  number, 
and  we  should  carefully  consider  which  offices  may  properly 
be  united  and  which  separated. 

First  among  necessary  offices  is  that  which  has  the  care  of 
the  market ;  a  magistrate  should  be  appointed  to  inspect  con- 
tracts and  to  maintain  order.  For  in  every  State  there  must 
inevitably  be  buyers  and  sellers  who  will  supply  one  another's 
wants;  this  is  the  readiest  way  to  make  a  State  self-sufficing 
and  so  fulfil  the  purpose  for  which  men  come  together  into 
one  State.c  A  second  office  of  a  similar  kind  undertakes  the 
supervision  and  embellishment  of  public  and  private  build- 
ings, the  maintaining  and  repairing  of  houses  and  roads,  the 
prevention  of  disputes  about  boundaries  and  other  concerns 
of  a  like  nature.  This  is  commonly  called  the  office  of  city 
warden,  and  has  various  departments,  which,  in  more  popu- 
lous towns,  are  shared  among  different  persons,  one,  for  ex- 
ample, taking  charge  of  the  walls,  another  of  the  fountains,  a 
third  of  harbors.    There  is  another  equally  necessary  office,  and 

c  Nic  Eth.  V.  6,  §  4 ;  PL  Rep.  ii.  369. 
II 


i62  ARISTOTLE 

of  a  similar  kind,  having  to  do  with  the  same  matters  without 
the  walls  and  in  the  country: — the  magistrates  who  hold  this 
office  are  called  wardens  of  the  country,  or  inspectors  of  the 
woods.  Besides  these  three  there  is  a  fourth  office  of  receivers 
of  taxes,  who  have  under  their  charge  the  revenue  which  they 
distribute  among  the  various  departments ;  these  are  called 
receivers  or  treasurers.  Another  officer  registers  all  private 
contracts,  and  decisions  of  the  courts,  all  public  indictments, 
and  also  all  preliminary  proceedings.  This  office  again  is 
sometimes  subdivided,  in  which  case  one  officer  is  appointed 
over  all  the  rest.  These  officers  are  called  recorders  or  sacred 
recorders,  presidents,  and  the  like. 

Next  to  these  comes  an  office  of  which  the  duties  are  the 
most  necessary  and  also  the  most  difficult,  viz.,  that  to  which 
is  committed  the  execution  of  punishments,  or  the  exaction  of 
fines  from  those  who  are  posted  up  according  to  the  registers ; 
and  also  the  custody  of  prisoners.  The  difficulty  of  this  office 
arises  out  of  the  odium  which  is  attached  to  it;  no  one  will 
undertake  it  unless  great  profits  are  to  be  made,  and  anyone 
who  does  is  loath  to  execute  the  law.  Still  the  office  is  neces- 
sary ;  for  judicial  decisions  are  useless  if  they  take  no  effect ; 
and  if  society  cannot  exist  without  them,  neither  can  it  exist 
without  the  execution  of  them.  It  is  an  office  which,  being 
so  unpopular,  should  not  be  entrusted  to  one  person,  but  di- 
vided among  several  taken  from  different  courts.  In  like 
manner  an  effort  should  be  made  to  distribute  among  different 
persons  the  writing  up  of  those  who  are  on  the  register  of  the 
condemned.  Some  sentences  should  be  executed  by  officers 
who  have  other  functions;  penalties  for  new  offences  should 
be  exacted  by  new  offices ;  and  as  regards  those  which  are 
not  new,  when  one  court  has  given  judgment,  another  should 
exact  the  penalty ;  for  example,  the  wardens  of  the  city  should 
exact  the  fines  imposed  by  the  wardens  of  the  agora,  and 
others  again  should  exact  the  fines  imposed  by  them.  For 
penalties  are  more  likely  to  be  exacted  when  less  odium  at- 
taches to  the  exaction  of  them ;  but  a  double  odium  is  incurred 
when  the  judges  who  have  passed  also  execute  the  sentence, 
and  if  they  are  always  the  executioners,  they  will  be  the  ene- 
mies of  all. 

In  many  places  one  magistracy  has  the  custody  of  the  pris- 
oners, while  another  executes  the  sentence,  as,  for  example, 


THE  POLITICS  163 

"  the  Eleven  "  at  Athens.  It  is  well  to  separate  off  the  jailer- 
ship,  and  try  by  some  device  to  render  the  office  less  unpopular. 
For  it  is  quite  as  necessary  as  that  of  the  executioner;  but 
good  men  do  all  they  can  to  avoid  it,  and  worthless  persons 
cannot  safely  be  trusted  with  it;  for  they  themselves  require 
a  guard,  and  are  not  fit  to  g^ard  others.  There  ought  not 
therefore  to  be  a  single  or  permanent  officer  set  apart  for  this 
duty ;  but  it  should  be  entrusted  to  the  young,  wherever  they 
are  organized  into  a  band  or  guard,  and  different  magistrates 
acting  in  turn  should  take  charge  of  it. 

These  are  the  indispensable  officers,  and  should  be  ranked 
first : — next  in  order  follow  others,  equally  necessary,  but  of 
higher  rank,  and  requiring  great  experience  and  fidelity.  Such 
are  the  offices  to  which  are  committed  the  guard  of  the  city, 
and  other  military  functions.  Not  only  in  time  of  war  but  of 
peace  their  duty  will  be  to  defend  the  walls  and  gates,  and 
to  muster  and  marshal  the  citizens.  In  some  States  there  are 
many  such  offices ;  in  others  there  are  a  few  only,  while  small 
States  are  content  with  one;  these  officers  are  called  generals 
or  commanders.  Again,  if  a  State  has  cavalry  or  light-armed 
troops  or  archers  or  a  naval  force,  it  will  sometimes  happen 
that  each  of  these  departments  has  separate  officers,  who  arc 
called  admirals,  or  generals  of  cavalry  or  of  infantry.  And 
there  are  subordinate  officers  called  naval  and  military  cap- 
tains, and  captains  of  horse;  having  others  under  them: — 
all  these  are  included  in  the  department  of  war.  Thus  much 
of  military  command. 

But  since  many,  not  to  say  all,  of  these  offices  handle  the 
public  money,  there  must  of  necessity  be  another  office  which 
examines  and  audits  them,  and  has  no  other  functions.  Such 
officers  are  called  by  various  names — scrutineers,  auditors,  ac- 
countants, controllers.  Besides  all  these  offices  there  is  an- 
other which  is  supreme  over  them,  and  to  this,  which  in  a 
democracy  presides  over  the  assembly,  is  often  entrusted  both 
the  introduction  and  the  ratification  of  measures.  For  that 
power  which  convenes  the  people  must  of  necessity  be  the 
head  of  the  State.  In  some  places  they  are  called  prohuli, 
because  they  hold  previous  deliberations,  but  in  a  democracy 
more  commonly  "  councillors."  These  are  the  chief  political 
offices. 

Another  set  of  officers  is  concerned  with  the  maintenance 


i64  ARISTOTLE 

> 

of  religion ;  priests  and  guardians  see  to  the  preservation  and 
repair  of  the  temples  of  the  gods  and  to  other  matters  of  re- 
ligion. One  office  of  this  sort  may  be  enough  in  small  places, 
but  in  larger  ones  there  are  a  great  many  besides  the  priest- 
hood; for  example  superintendents  of  sacrifices,  guardians 
of  shrines,  treasurers  of  the  sacred  revenues.  Nearly  con- 
nected with  these  there  are  also  the  officers  appointed  for  the 
performance  of  the  public  sacrifices,  except  any  which  the  law 
assigns  to  the  priests;  such  officers  derive  their  dignity  from 
the  public  hearth  of  the  city.  They  are  sometimes  called 
archons,  sometimes  kings,  and  sometimes  prytanes. 

These,  then,  are  the  necessary  offices,  which  may  be  summed 
up  as  follows:  offices  concerned  with  matters  of  religion, 
with  war,  with  the  revenue  and  expenditure,  with  the  market, 
with  the  city,  with  the  harbors,  with  the  country;  also  with 
the  courts  of  law,  with  the  records  of  contracts,  with  execution 
of  sentences  with  custody  of  prisoners,  with  audits  and  scruti- 
nies and  accounts  of  magistrates ;  lastly,  there  are  those  which 
preside  over  the  public  deliberations  of  the  State.  There  are 
likewise  magistracies  characteristic  of  States  which  are  peace- 
ful and  prosperous,  and  at  the  same  time  have  a  regard  to 
good  order :  such  as^the  offices  of  guardians  of  women,  guard- 
ians of  the  laws,  guardians  of  children,  and  directors  of  gym- 
nastics ;  also  superintendents  of  gymnastic  and  Dionysiac 
contests,  and  of  other  similar  spectacles.  Some  of  these  are 
clearly  not  democratic  offices ;  for  example,  the  guardianships 
of  women  and  children — the  poor,  not  having  any  slaves,  must 
employ  both  their  women  and  children  as  servants. 

Once  more:  there  are  three  forms  of  the  highest  elective 
offices  in  States — guardians  of  the  law,  probuli,  councillors — 
of  these,  the  guardians  of  the  law  are  an  aristocratical,  thQ 
prohuli  an  oligarchical,  the  council  a  democratical  institution. 
Enough  of  the  different  kinds  of  offices. 


BOOK  VII 

HE  who  would  duly  inquire  about  the  best  form  of  a 
State  ought  first  to  determine  which  is  the  most 
eligible  life;  while  this  remains  uncertain  the  best 
form  of  the  State  must  also  be  uncertain;  for,  in  the  natural 
order  of  things,  those  may  be  expected  to  lead  the  best  life 
who  are  governed  in  the  best  manner  of  which  their  circum- 
stances admit.  We  ought  therefore  to  ascertain,  first  of  all, 
which  is  the  most  generally  eligible  life,  and  then  whether  the 
same  life  is  or  is  not  best  for  the  State  and  for  individuals. 
Assuming  that  enough  has  been  already  said  in  exoteric 
discourses  concerning  the  best  life,  we  will  now  only  repeat 
the  statements  contained  in  them.  Certainly  no  one  will  dis- 
pute the  propriety  of  that  partition  of  goods  which  separates 
them  into  three  classes,^  viz.,  external  goods,  goods  of  the 
body,  and  goods  of  the  soul,  or  deny  that  the  happy  man  must 
have  all  three.  For  no  one  would  maintain  that  he  is  happy 
who  has  not  in  him  a  particle  of  courage  or  temperance  or 
justice  or  prudence,  who  is  afraid  of  every  insect  which  flutters 
past  him,  and  will  commit  any  crime,  however  great,  in  order 
to  gratify  his  lust  of  meat  or  drink,  who  will  sacrifice  his 
dearest  friend  for  the  sake  of  half  a  farthing,  and  is  as  feeble 
and  false  in  mind  as  a  child  or  a  madman.  These  proposi- 
tions are  universally  acknowledged  as  soon  as  they  are  uttered, 
but  men  differ  about  the  degree  or  relative  superiority  of  this 
or  that  good.  Some  think  that  a  very  moderate  amount  of 
virtue  is  enough,  but  set  no  limit  to  their  desires  of  wealth, 
property,  power,  reputation,  and  the  like.  To  whom  we 
reply  by  an  appeal  to  facts,  which  easily  prove  that  man- 
kind do  not  acquire  or  preserve  virtue  by  the  help  of  external 
goods,  but  external  goods  by  the  help  of  virtue,  and  that  happi- 
ness, whether  consisting  in  pleasure  or  virtue,  or  both,  is  more 
often  found  with  those  who  are  most  highly  cultivated  in 
a  Cp.  N.  Eth.  i.  8,  §  2. 
165 


i66  ARISTOTLE 

their  mind  and  in  their  character,  and  have  only  a  moderate 
share  of  external  goods,  than  among  those  who  possess  ex- 
ternal goods  to  a  useless  extent  but  are  deficient  in  higher 
qualities;  and  this  is  not  only  matter  of  experience,  but,  if 
reflected  upon,  will  easily  appear  to  be  in  accordance  with 
reason.  For,  whereas  external  goods  have  a  limit,  like  any 
other  instrument,  and  all  things  useful  are  of  such  a  nature 
that  where  there  is  too  much  of  them  they  must  either  do 
harm,  or  at  any  rate  be  of  no  use,  to  their  possessors,  every 
good  of  the  soul,  the  greater  it  is,  is  also  of  greater  use,  if 
the  epithet  useful  as  well  as  noble  is  appropriate  to  such  sub- 
jects. No  proof  is  required  to  show  that  the  best  state  of  one 
thing  in  relation  to  another  is  proportioned  to  the  degree  of 
excellence  by  which  the  natures  corresponding  to  those  states 
are  separated  from  each  other:  so  that,  if  the  soul  is  more 
noble  than  our  possessions  or  our  bodies,  both  absolutely  and 
in  relation  to  us,  it  must  be  admitted  that  the  best  state  of 
either  has  a  similar  ratio  to  the  other.  Again,  if  it  is  for  the 
sake  of  the  soul  that  goods  external  and  goods  of  the  body 
are  eligible  at  all,  and  all  wise  men  ought  to  choose  them  for 
the  sake  of  the  soul,  and  not  the  soul  for  the  sake  of  them. 

Let  us  acknowledge  then  that  each  one  has  just  so  much 
of  happiness  as  he  has  of  virtue  and  wisdom,  and  of  virtuous 
and  wise  action.  God  is  a  witness  to  us  of  this  truth,&  for 
he  is  happy  and  blessed,  not  by  reason  of  any  external  good, 
but  in  himself  and  by  reason  of  his  own  nature.  And  herein 
of  necessity  lies  the  difference  between  good  fortune  and  hap- 
piness; for  external  goods  come  of  themselves,  and  chance  is 
the  author  of  them,  but  no  one  is  just  or  temperate  by  or 
through  chance.c  In  like  manner,  and  by  a  similar  train  of 
argument,  the  happy  State  may  be  shown  to  be  that  which  is 
[morally]  best  and  which  acts  rightly;  and  rightly  it  cannot 
act  without  doing  right  actions,  and  neither  individual  nor 
State  can  do  right  actions  without  virtue  and  wisdom.  Thus 
the  courage,  justice,  and  wisdom  of  a  State  have  the  same 
form  and  nature  as  the  qualities  which  give  the  individual  who 
possesses  them  the  name  of  just,  wise,  or  temperate. 

Thus  much  may  suffice  by  way  of  preface :  for  I  could  not 
avoid   touching   upon   these   questions,   neither   could    I   go 

h  N.  Eth.  X.  8,  §  7 ;  Met.  xii.  7.  c  Ethics  i.  9,  §  6. 


THE  POLITICS  T67 

through  all  the  arguments  affecting  them ;  these  must  be  re- 
served for  another  discussion. 

Let  us  assume  then  that  the  best  life,  both  for  individuals 
and  States,  is  the  life  of  virtue,  having  external  goods  enough 
for  the  performance  of  good  actions.  If  there  are  any  who 
controvert  our  assertion,  we  will  in  this  treatise  pass  them 
over,  and  consider  their  objections  hereafter. 

There  remains  to  be  discussed  the  question.  Whether  the 
happiness  of  the  individual  is  the  same  as  that  of  the  State, 
or  different?  Here  again  there  can  be  no  doubt — no  one  de- 
nies that  they  are  the  same.  For  those  who  hold  that  the  well- 
being  of  the  individual  consists  in  his  wealth,  also  think  that 
riches  make  the  happiness  of  the  wealth,  also  think  that  riches 
make  the  happiness  of  the  whole  State,  and  those  who  value 
most  highly  the  life  of  a  tyrant  deem  that  city  the  happiest 
which  rules  over  the  greatest  number;  while  they  who  ap- 
prove an  individual  for  his  virtue  say  that  the  more  virtuous 
a  city  is,  the  happier  it  is.  Two  points  here  present  them- 
selves for  consideration :  first  ( i ) ,  which  is  the  more  eligible 
life,  that  of  a  citizen  who  is  a  member  of  a  State,  or  that  of 
an  alien  who  has  no  political  ties;  and  again  (2),  which  is  the 
best  form  of  constitution  or  the  best  condition  of  a  State, 
either  on  the  supposition  that  political  privileges  are  given 
to  all,  or  that  they  are  given  to  a  majority  only?  Since  the 
good  of  the  State  and  not  of  the  individual  is  the  proper  sub- 
ject of  political  thought  and  speculation,  and  we  are  engaged 
in  a  political  discussion,  while  the  first  of  these  two  points  has 
a  secondary  interest  for  us,  the  latter  will  be  the  main  subject 
of  our  inquiry. 

Now  it  is  evident  that  the  form  of  government  is  best  in 
which  every  man,  whoever  he  is,  can  act  for  the  best  and  live 
happily.  But  even  those  who  agree  in  thinking  that  the  life 
of  virtue  is  the  most  eligible  raise  a  question,  whether  the 
life  of  business  and  politics  is  or  is  not  more  eligible  than 
one  which  is  wholly  independent  of  external  goods,  I  mean 
than  a  contemplative  life,  which  by  some  is  maintained  to  be 
the  only  one  worthy  of  a  philosopher.  For  these  two  lives — 
the  life  of  the  philosopher  and  the  life  of  the  statesman — 
appear  to  have  been  preferred  by  those  who  have  been  most 
keen  in  the  pursuit  of  virtue,  both  in  our  own  and  in  other 
ages.    Which  is  the  better  is  a  question  of  no  small  moment; 


i68  ARISTOTLE 

for  the  wise  man,  like  the  wise  State,  will  necessarily  regu- 
late his  life  according  to  the  best  end.  There  are  some  who 
think  that  while  a  despotic  rule  over  others  is  the  greatest 
injustice,  to  exercise  a  constitutional  rule  over  them,  even 
though  not  unjust,  is  a  great  impediment  to  a  man's  individual 
well-being.  Others  take  an  opposite  view ;  they  maintain  that 
the  true  life  of  man  is  the  practical  and  political,  and  that 
every  virtue  admits  of  being  practised,  quite  as  much  by  states- 
men and  rulers  as  by  private  individuals.  Others,  again,  are 
of  opinion  that  arbitrary  and  tyrannical  rule  alone  consists 
with  happiness;  indeed,  in  some  States  the  entire  aim  of  the 
laws  is  to  give  men  despotic  power  over  their  neighbors.  And, 
therefore,  although  in  most  cities  the  laws  may  be  said  gener- 
ally to  be  in  a  chaotic  state,  still,  if  they  aim  at  anything,  they 
aim  at  the  maintenance  of  power:  thus  in  Lacedaemon  and 
Crete  the  system  of  education  and  the  greater  part  of  the  laws 
are  framed  with  a  view  to  war.d  And  in  all  nations  which 
are  able  to  gratify  their  ambition  military  power  is  held  in 
esteem,  for  example  among  the  Scythians  and  Persians  and 
Thracians  and  Celts.  In  some  nations  there  are  even  laws 
tending  to  stimulate  the  warlike  virtues,  as  at  Carthage,  where 
we  are  told  that  men  obtain  the  honor  of  wearing  as  many 
rings  as  they  have  served  campaigns.  There  was  once  a  law 
in  Macedonia  that  he  who  had  not  killed  an  enemy  should  wear 
a  halter^  and  among  the  Scythians  no  one  who  had  not  slain 
his  man  was  allowed  to  drink  out  of  the  cup  which  was  handed 
round  at  a  certain  feast.  Among  the  Iberians,  a  warlike  na- 
tion, the  number  of  enemies  whom  a  man  has  slain  is  indicated 
by  the  number  of  obelisks  which  are  fixed  in  the  earth  round 
his  tomb ;  and  there  are  numerous  practices  among  other  na- 
tions of  a  like  kind,  some  of  them  established  by  law  and 
others  by  custom.  Yet  to  a  reflecting  mind  it  must  appear 
very  strange  that  the  statesman  should  be  always  considering 
how  he  can  dominate  and  tyrannize  over  others,  whether  they 
will  or  not.  How  can  that  which  is  not  even  lawful  be  the 
business  of  the  statesman  or  the  legislator?  Unlawful  it  cer- 
tainly is  to  rule  without  regard  to  justice,  for  there  may  be 
might  where  there  is  no  right.  The  other  arts  and  sciences 
offer  no  parallel;  a  physician  is  not  expected  to  persuade  or 
coerce  his  patients,  nor  a  pilot  the  passengers  in  his  ship. 
d  Cp.  Plato,  Laws  i.  633  flf. 


THE  POLITICS  169 

Yet  many  appear  to  think  that  a  despotic  government  is  a 
true  political  form,  and  what  men  affirm  to  be  unjust  and 
"inexpedient  in  their  own  case  they  are  not  ashamed  of  prac- 
tising towards  others;  they  demand  justice  for  themselves, 
but  where  other  men  are  concerned  they  care  nothing  about 
it.  Such  behavior  is  irrational ;  unless  the  one  party  is  born 
to  command,  and  the  other  born  to  serve,  in  which  case  men 
have  a  right  to  command,  not  indeed  all  their  fellows,  but 
only  those  who  are  intended  to  be  subjects;  just  as  we  ought 
not  to  hunt  mankind,  whether  for  food  or  sacrifice,  but  only 
the  animals  which  are  intended  for  food  or  sacrifice,  that  is 
to  say,  such  wild  animals  as  are  eatable.  And  surely  there 
may  be  a  city  happy  in  isolation,  which  we  will  assume  to  be 
well  governed  (for  it  is  quite  possible  that  a  city  thus  isolated 
might  be  well  administered  and  have  good  laws)  ;  but  such 
a  city  would  not  be  constituted  with  any  view  to  war  or  the 
conquest  of  enemies — all  that  sort  of  thing  must  be  excluded. 
Hence  we  see  very  plainly  that  warlike  pursuits,  although 
generally  to  be  deemed  honorable,  are  not  the  supreme  end 
of  all  things,  but  only  means.  And  the  good  lawgiver  should 
inquire  how  States  and  races  of  men  and  communities  may 
participate  in  a  good  life,  and  in  the  happiness  which  is  attain- 
able by  them.  His  enactments  will  not  be  always  the  same ; 
and  where  there  are  neighbors  he  will  have  to  deal  with  them 
according  to  their  characters,  and  to  see  what  duties  are  to 
be  performed  towards  each.  The  end  at  which  the  best  form 
of  government  should  aim  may  be  properly  made  a  matter 
of  future  consideration. 

Let  us  now  address  those  who,  while  they  agree  that  the  life 
of  virtue  is  the  most  eligible,  differ  about  the  manner  of  prac- 
tising it.  For  some  renounce  political  power,  and  think  that 
the  life  of  a  freeman  is  different  from  the  life  of  the  statesman 
and  the  best  of  all ;  but  others  think  the  life  of  the  statesman 
best.  The  argument  of  the  latter  is  that  he  who  does  nothing 
cannot  do  well,  and  that  virtuous  activity  is  identical  with 
happiness.  To  both  we  say :  "  you  are  partly  right  and  partly 
wrong."  The  first  class  are  right  in  affirming  that  the  life 
of  the  freeman  is  better  than  the  life  of  the  despot ;  for  there 
is  nothing  grand  or  noble  in  having  the  use  of  a  slave,  in  so 
far  as  he  is  a  slave;  or  in  issuing  commands  about  necessary 
things.    But  it  is  an  error  to  suppose  that  every  sort  of  rule 


I70 


ARISTOTLE 


is  despotic  like  that  of  a  master  over  slaves,  for  there  is  as 
great  a  difference  between  the  rule  over  freemen  and  the  rule 
over  slaves  as  there  is  between  slavery  by  nature  and  freedom 
by  nature,  about  which  I  have  said  enough  at  the  commence- 
ment of  this  treatise.  And  it  is  equally  a  mistake  to  place 
inactivity  above  action,  for  happiness  is  activity,  and  the  ac- 
tions of  the  just  and  wise  are  the  realization  of  much  that  is 
noble. 

But  perhaps  someone,  accepting  these  premises,  may  still 
maintain  that  supreme  power  is  the  best  of  all  things,  because 
the  possessors  of  it  are  able  to  perform  the  greatest  number 
of  noble  actions.  If  so,  the  man  who  is  able  to  rule,  instead  of 
giving  up  anything  to  his  neighbor,  ought  rather  to  take  away 
his  power ;  and  the  father  should  make  no  account  of  his  son, 
nor  the  son  of  his  father,  nor  friend  of  friend;  they  shoulcl 
not  bestow  a  thought  on  one  another  in  comparison  with  this 
higher  object,  for  the  best  is  the  most  eligible  and  "  doing 
well "  is  the  best.  There  might  be  some  truth  in  such  a  view 
if  we  assume  that  robbers  and  plunderers  attain  the  chief  good. 
But  this  can  never  be;  and  hence  we  infer  the  view  to  be 
false.  For  the  actions  of  a  ruler  cannot  really  be  honorable, 
unless  he  is  as  much  superior  to  other  men  as  a  husband 
is  to  a  wife,  or  a  father  to  his  children,  or  a  master  to  his 
slaves.  And  therefore  he  who  violates  the  law  can  never  re- 
cover by  any  success,  however  great,  what  he  has  already  lost 
in  departing  from  virtue.  For  equals  share  alike  in  the  honor- , 
able  and  the  just,  as  is  just  and  equal.  But  that  the  unequal 
should  be  given  to  equals,  and  the  unlike  to  those  who  are 
like,  is  contrary  to  nature,  and  nothing  which  is  contrary  to 
nature  is  good.  If,  therefore,  there  is  anyone  superior  in 
virtue  and  in  the  power  of  performing  the  best  actions,  him 
we  ought  to  follow  and  obey,  but  he  must  have  the  capacity 
for  action  as  well  as  virtue. 

If  we  are  right  in  our  view,  and  happiness  is  assumed  to 
be  virtuous  activity,  the  active  life  will  be  the  best,  both  for 
the  city  collectively,  and  for  individuals.  Not  that  a  life  of 
action  must  necessarily  have  relation  to  others,  as  some  per- 
sons think,  nor  are  those  ideas  only  to  be  regarded  as  practical 
which  are  pursued  for  the  sake  of  practical  results,  but  much 
more  the  thoughts  and  contemplations  which  are  independent 
and  complete  in  themselves ;  since  virtuous  activity,  and  there- 


THE   POLITICS  171 

fore  action,  is  an  end,  and  even  in  the  case  of  external  actions 
the  directing  mind  is  most  truly  said  to  act.  Neither,  again, 
is  it  necessary  that  States  which  are  cut  off  from  others  and 
choose  to  live  alone  should  be  inactive ;  for  there  may  be  ac- 
tivity also  in  the  parts;  there  are  many  ways  in  which  the 
members  of  a  State  act  upon  one  another.  The  same  thing  is 
equally  true  of  every  individual.  If  this  were  otherwise,  Gc 
and  the  Universe,  who  have  no  external  actions  over  and 
above  their  own  energies,  would  be  far  enough  from  perfec- 
tion. Hence  it  is  evident  that  the  same  life  is  best  for  each 
individual,  and  for  States,  and  for  mankind  collectively. 

Thus  far  by  way  of  introduction.  In  what  has  preceded 
I  have  discussed  other  forms  of  government ;  in  what  remains 
the  first  point  to  be  considered  is  what  should  be  the  conditions 
of  the  ideal  or  perfect  State;  for  the  perfect  State  cannot 
exist  without  a  due  supply  of  the  means  of  life.  And  there- 
fore we  must  presuppose  many  purely  imaginary  conditions, 
but  nothing  impossible.  There  will  be  a  certain  number  of 
citizens,  a  country  in  which  to  place  them,  and  the  like.  As 
the  weaver  or  shipbuilder  or  any  other  artisan  must  have 
the  material  proper  for  his  work  (and  in  proportion  as  this 
is  better  prepared,  so  will  the  result  of  his  art  be  nobler),  so 
the  statesman  or  legislator  must  also  have  the  materials  suited 
to  him. 

First  among  the  materials  required  by  the  statesman  is  popu- 
lation :  he  will  consider  what  should  be  the  number  and  char- 
acter of  the  citizens,  and  then  what  should  be  the  size  and 
character  of  the  country.  Most  persons  think  that  a  State  in 
order  to  be  happy  ought  to  be  large ;  but  even  if  they  are  right, 
they  have  no  idea  what  is  a  large  and  what  a  small  State.  For 
they  judge  of  the  size  of  the  city  by  the  number  of  the  in- 
habitants; whereas  they  ought  to  regard,  not  their  number, 
but  their  power.  A  city  too,  like  an  individual,  has  a  work 
to  do;  and  that  city  which  is  best  adapted  to  the  fulfilment 
of  its  work  is  to  be  deemed  greatest,  in  the  same  sense  of  the 
word  great  in  which  Hippocrates  might  be  called  greater,  not 
as  a  man,  but  as  a  physician,  than  someone  else  who  was 
taller.  And  even  if  we  reckon  greatness  by  numbers,  we  ought 
not  to  include  everybody,  for  there  must  always  be  in  cities 
a  multitude  of  slaves  and  sojourners  and  foreigners;  but  we 
should  include  those  only  who  are  members  of  the   State, 


172 


ARISTOTLE 


and  who  form  an  essential  part  of  it.  The  number  of  the 
latter  is  a  proof  of  the  greatness  of  a  city;  but  a  city  which 
produces  numerous  artisans  and  comparatively  few  soldiers 
cannot  be  great,  for  a  great  city  is  not  to  be  confounded  with 
a  populous  one.  Moreover,  experience  shows  that  a  very  popu- 
lous city  can  rarely,  if  ever,  be  well  governed ;  since  all  cities 
which  have  a  reputation  for  good  government  have  a  limit 
of  population.  We  may  argue  on  grounds  of  reason,  and  the 
same  result  will  follow.  For  law  is  order,  and  good  law  is 
good  order;  but  a  very  great  multitude  cannot  be  orderly: 
to  introduce  order  into  the  unlimited  is  the  work  of  a  divine 
power  —  of  such  a  power  as  holds  together  the  universe. 
Beauty  is  realized  in  number  and  magnitude,^  and  the  State 
which  combines  magnitude  with  good  order  must  necessarily 
be  the  most  beautiful.  To  the  size  of  States  there  is  a  limit, 
as  there  is  to  other  things,  plants,  animals,  implements;  for 
none  of  these  retain  their  natural  power  when  they  are  too 
large  or  too  small,  but  they  either  wholly  lose  their  nature, 
or  are  spoiled.  For  example,  a  ship  which  is  only  a  span 
long  will  not  be  a  ship  at  all,  nor  a  ship  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
long;  yet  there  may  be  a  ship  of  a  certain  size,  either  too 
large  or  too  small,  which  will  still  be  a  ship,  but  bad  for  sailing. 
In  like  manner  a  State  when  composed  of  too  few  is  not  as  a 
State  ought  to  be,  self-sufficing;  when  of  too  many,  though 
self-sufficing  in  all  mere  necessaries,  it  is  a  nation  and  not  a 
State,  being  almost  incapable  of  constitutional  government. 
For  who  can  be  the  general  of  such  a  vast  multitude,  or  who 
the  herald,  unless  he  have  the  voice  of  a  Stentor? 

A  State  then  only  begins  to  exist  when  it  has  attained  a 
population  sufficient  for  a  good  life  in  the  political  community : 
it  may  indeed  somewhat  exceed  this  number.  But,  as  I  was 
saying,  there  must  be  a  limit.  What  should  be  the  limit  will 
be  easily  ascertained  by  experience.  For  both  governors  and 
governed  have  duties  to  perform ;  the  special  functions  of  a 
governor  are  to  command  and  to  judge.  But  if  the  citizens 
of  a  State  are  to  judge  and  to  distribute  offices  according  to 
merit,  then  they  must  know  each  other's  characters ;  where 
they  do  not  possess  this  knowledge,  both  the  election  to  offices 
and  the  decision  of  lawsuits  will  go  wrong.  When  the  popula- 
tion is  very  large  they  are  manifestly  settled  at  haphazard, 
e  Cp.  Poet.  7,  §  4. 


THE   POLITICS  173 

which  clearly  ought  not  to  be.  Besides,  in  an  overpopulous 
State  foreigners  and  metics  will  readily  acquire  the  rights  of 
citizens,  for  who  will  find  them  out?  Clearly  then  the  best 
limit  of  the  population  of  a  State  is  the  largest  number  which 
suffices  for  the  purposes  of  life,  and  can  be  taken  in  at  a  single 
view.    Enough  concerning  the  size  of  a  city. 

Much  the  same  principle  will  apply  to  the  territory  of  the 
State:  everyone  would  agree  in  praising  the  State  which  is 
most  entirely  self-sufficing;  and  that  must  be  the  State  which 
is  all-producing,  for  to  have  all  things  and  to  want  nothing 
is  sufficiency.  In  size  and  extent  it  should  be  such  as  may 
enable  the  inhabitants  to  live  temperately  and  liberally  in  the 
enjoyment  of  leisure.  Whether  we  are  right  or  wrong  in  lay- 
ing down  this  limit  we  will  inquire  more  precisely  hereafter, 
when  we  have  occasion  to  consider  what  is  the  right  use  of 
property  and  wealth :  a  matter  which  is  much  disputed,  be- 
cause men  are  inclined  to  rush  into  one  of  two  extremes, 
some  into  meanness,  others  into  luxury. 

It  is  not  difficult  to  determine  the  general  character  of  the 
territory  which  is  required ;  there  are,  however,  some  points 
on  which  military  authorities  should  be  heard ;  they  tell  us 
that  it  should  be  difficult  of  access  to  the  enemy,  and  easy  of 
egress  to  the  inhabitants.  Further,  we  require  that  the  land 
as  well  as  the  inhabitants  of  whom  we  were  just  now  speaking 
should  be  taken  in  at  a  single  view,  for  a  country  which  is 
easily  seen  can  be  easily  protected.  As  to  the  position  of  the 
city,  if  we  could  have  what  we  wish,  it  should  be  well  situated 
in  regard  both  to  sea  or  land.  This  then  is  one  principle,  that 
it  should  be  a  convenient  centre  for  the  protection  of  the  whole 
country :  the  other  is,  that  it  should  be  suitable  for  receiving 
the  fruits  of  the  soil,  and  also  for  the  bringing  in  of  timber 
and  any  other  products. 

Whether  a  communication  with  the  sea  is  beneficial  to  a 
well-ordered  State  or  not  is  a  question  which  has  often  been 
asked.  It  is  argued  that  the  introduction  of  strangers  brought 
up  under  other  laws,  and  the  increase  of  population,  will  be 
adverse  to  good  order  (  for  a  maritime  people  will  always  have 
a  crowd  of  merchants  coming  and  going) ,  and  that  intercourse 
by  sea  is  inimical  to  good  government.^  Apart  from  these 
considerations,  it  would  be  undoubtedly  better,  both  with  a 
/  Cp.  Plato,  Laws  iv.  704  ff. 


174 


ARISTOTLE 


view  to  safety  and  to  the  provision  of  necessaries,  that  the 
city  and  territory  should  be  connected  with  the  sea;  the  de- 
fenders of  a  country,  if  they  are  to  maintain  themselves 
against  an  enemy,  should  be  easily  relieved  both  by  land  and 
by  sea ;  and  even  if  they  are  not  able  to  attack  by  sea  and 
land  at  once,  they  will  have  less  difficulty  in  doing  mischief 
to  their  assailants  on  one  element,  if  they  themselves  can  use 
both.  Moreover,  it  is  necessary  that  they  should  import  from 
abroad  what  is  not  found  in  their  own  country,  and  that  they 
should  export  what  they  have  in  excess ;  for  a  city  ought 
to  be  a  market,  not  indeed  for  others,  but  for  herself. 

Those  who  make  themselves  a  market  for  the  world  only 
do  so  for  the  sake  of  revenue,  and  if  a  State  ought  not  to  de- 
sire profit  of  this  kind  it  ought  not  to  have  such  an  emporium. 
Nowadays  we  often  see  in  countries  and  cities  dockyards  and 
harbors  very  conveniently  placed  outside  the  city,  but  not  too 
far  off;  and  they  are  kept  in  dependence  by  walls  and  similar 
fortifications.  Cities  thus  situated  manifestly  reap  the  benefit 
of  intercourse  with  their  ports ;  and  any  harm  which  is  likely 
to  accrue  may  be  easily  guarded  against  by  the  laws,  which 
will  pronounce  and  determine  who  may  hold  communication 
with  one  another,  and  who  may  not. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  possession  of  a  moderate 
naval  force  is  advantageous  to  a  city ;  the  citizens  require  such 
a  force  for  their  own  needs,  and  they  should  also  be  formidable 
to  their  neighbors  in  certain  cases,  or,  if  necessary,  able  to  assist 
them  by  sea  as  well  as  by  land.  The  proper  number  or  magni- 
tude of  this  naval  force  is  relative  to  the  character  of  the  State ; 
for  if  her  function  is  to  take  a  leading  part  in  politics,  her 
naval  power  should  be  commensurate  with  the  scale  of  her 
enterprises.  The  population  of  the  State  need  not  be  much  in- 
creased, since  there  is  no  necessity  that  the  sailors  should  be 
citizens :  the  marines  who  have  the  control  and  command 
will  be  freemen,  and  belong  also  to  the  infantry ;  and  wherever 
there  is  a  dense  population  of  Perioeci  and  husbandmen,  there 
will  always  be  sailors  more  than  enough.  Of  this  we  see  in- 
stances at  the  present  day.  The  city  of  Heraclea,  for  example, 
although  small  in  comparison  with  many  others,  can  man  a 
considerable  fleet.  Such  are  our  conclusions  respecting  the 
territory  of  the  State,  its  harbor,  its  towns,  its  relations  to  the 
sea,  and  its  maritime  power. 


THE  POLITICS  175 

Having  spoken  of  the  number  of  the  citizens,  we  will  pro- 
ceed to  speak  of  what  should  be  their  character.  This  is  a 
subject  which  can  be  easily  understood  by  anyone  who  casts 
his  eye  on  the  more  celebrated  States  of  Hellas,  and  gener- 
ally on  the  distribution  of  races  in  the  habitable  world.  Those 
who  live  in  a  cold  climate  and  in  [northern]  Europe  are  full 
of  spirit,  but  wanting  in  intelligence  and  skill;  and  therefore 
they  keep  their  freedom,  but  have  no  political  organization, 
and  are  incapable  of  ruling  over  others.  Whereas  the  natives 
of  Asia  are  intelligent  and  inventive,  but  they  are  wanting 
in  spirit,  and  therefore  they  are  always  in  a  state  of  sub- 
jection and  slavery.  But  the  Hellenic  race,  which  is  situated 
between  them,  is  likewise  intermediate  in  character,  being  high- 
spirited  and  also  intelligent.^  Hence  it  continues  free,  and  is 
the  best-governed  of  any  nation,  and,  if  it  could  be  formed 
into  one  State,  would  be  able  to  rule  the  world.  There  are 
also  similar  diiferences  in  the  different  tribes  of  Hellas;  for 
some  of  them  are  of  a  one-sided  nature,  and  are  intelligent 
or  courageous  only,  while  in  others  there  is  a  happy  com- 
bination of  both  qualities.  And  clearly  those  whom  the  legis- 
lator will  most  easily  lead  to  virtue  may  be  expected  to  be 
both  intelligent  and  courageous.  Some  [like  Plato'*]  say  that 
the  guardians  should  be  friendly  towards  those  whom  they 
know,  fierce  towards  whom  they  do  not  know.  Now,  passion 
is  the  quality  of  the  soul  which  begets  friendship  and  inspires 
affection ;  notably  the  spirit  within  us  is  more  stirred  against 
our  friends  and  acquaintances  than  against  those  who  are 
unknown  to  us,  when  we  think  that  we  are  despised  by  them ; 
for  which  reason  Archilochus,  complaining  of  his  friends,  very 
naturally  addresses  his  soul  in  these  words, 

"For  wert  thou  not  plagued  on  account  of  friends?" 

The  power  of  command  and  the  love  of  freedom  are  in  all 
men  based  upon  this  quality,  for  passion  is  commanding  and 
invincible.  Nor  is  it  right  to  say  that  the  guardians  should 
be  fierce  towards  those  whom  they  do  not  know,  for  we  ought 
not  to  be  out  of  temper  with  anyone ;  and  a  lofty  spirit  is  not 
fierce  by  nature,  but  only  when  excited  against  evil-doers.  And 
this,  as  I  was  saying  before,  is  a  feeling  which  men  show  most 
strongly  towards  their  friends  if  they  think  they  have  received 
g  Cp.  Plato,  Rep.  iv.  435  e,  436  a.  h  Rep.  ii.  375. 


176 


ARISTOTLE 


a  wrong  at  their  hands :  as  indeed  is  reasonable ;  for,  besides 
the  actual  injury,  they  seem  to  be  deprived  of  a  benefit  by 
those  who  owe  them  one.    Hence  the  saying, 

"  Cruel  is  the  strife  of  brethren  "  ;t 
and  again, 

"  They  who  love  in  excess  also  hate  in  excess." 

Thus  we  have  nearly  determined  the  number  and  character 
of  the  citizens  of  our  State,  and  also  the  size  and  nature  of  their 
territory.  I  say  "  nearly,"  for  we  ought  not  to  require  the  same 
minuteness  in  theory  as  in  fact. 

As  in  other  natural  compounds  the  conditions  of  a  com- 
posite whole  are  not  necessarily  organic  parts  of  it,  so  in  a 
State  or  in  any  other  combination  forming  a  unity  not  every- 
thing is  a  part,  which  is  a  necessary  condition.  The  members 
of  an  association  have  necessarily  some  one  thing  the  same 
and  common  to  all,  in  which  they  share  equally  or  unequally ; 
for  example,  food  or  land  or  any  other  thing.  But  where 
there  are  two  things  of  which  one  is  a  means  and  the  other 
an  end,  they  have  nothing  in  common  except  that  the  one  re- 
ceives what  the  other  produces.  Such,  for  example,  is  the 
relation  in  which  workmen  and  tools  stand  to  their  work ;  the 
house  and  the  builder  have  nothing  in  common,  but  the  art  of 
the  builder  is  for  the  sake  of  the  house.  And  so  States  require 
property,  but  property,  even  though  living  beings  are  included 
in  it,  is  no  part  of  a  State ;  for  a  State  is  not  a  community  of 
living  beings  only,  but  a  community  of  equals,  aiming  at  the 
best  life  possible.  Now,  whereas  happiness  is  the  highest  good, 
being  a  realization  and  perfect  practice  of  virtue,  which  some 
attain,  while  others  have  little  or  none  of  it,  the  various  qual- 
ities of  men  are  clearly  the  reason  why  there  are  various  kinds 
of  States  and  many  forms  of  government ;  for  different  men 
seek  after  happiness  in  different  ways  and  by  different  means, 
and  so  make  for  themselves  different  modes  of  life  and  forms 
of  government.  We  must  see  also  how  many  things  are  in- 
dispensable to  the  existence  of  a  State,  for  what  we  call  the 
parts  of  a  State  will  be  found  among  them.  Let  us  then  enu- 
merate the  functions  of  a  State,  and  we  shall  easily  elicit  what 
we  want : 

First,  there  must  be  food;  secondly,  arts,  for  life  requires 
lEurip.  Frag.  51  Dindorf. 


THE   POLITICS  177 

many  instruments;  thirdly,  there  must  be  arms,  for  the  mem- 
bers of  a  community  have  need  of  them  in  order  to  maintain 
authority  both  against  disobedient  subjects  and  against  exter- 
nal assailants ;  fourthly,  there  must  be  a  certain  amount  of  rev- 
enue, both  for  internal  needs,  and  for  the  purposes  of  war; 
fifthly,  or  rather  first,  there  must  be  a  care  of  religion,  which  is 
commonly  called  worship;  sixthly,  and  most  necessary  of  all, 
there  must  be  a  power  of  deciding  what  is  for  the  public  in- 
terest, and  what  is  just  in  men's  dealings  with  one  another. 

These  are  the  things  which  every  State  may  be  said  to  need. 
For  a  State  is  not  a  mere  aggregate  of  persons,  but  a  union  of 
them  sufficing  for  the  purposes  of  life;  and  if  any  of  these 
things  be  wanting,  it  is  simply  impossible  that  the  community 
can  be  self-sufficing.  A  State  then  should  be  framed  with  a 
view  to  the  fulfilment  of  these  functions.  There  must  be  hus- 
bandmen to  procure  food,  and  artisans,  and  a  warlike  and  a 
wealthy  class,  and  priests,  and  judges  to  decide  what  is  just  and 
expedient. 

Having  determined  these  points,  we  have  in  the  next  place 
to  consider  whether  all  ought  to  share  in  every  sort  of  occupa- 
tion. Shall  every  man  be  at  once  husbandman,  artisan,  coun- 
cillor, judge,  or  shall  we  suppose  the  several  occupations  just 
mentioned  assigned  to  different  persons?  or,  thirdly,  shall 
some  employments  be  assigned  to  individuals  and  others  com- 
mon to  all?  The  question,  however,  does  not  occur  in  every 
State;  as  we  were  saying,  all  may  be  shared  by  all,  or  not  all 
by  all,  but  only  some  by  some ;  and  hence  arise  the  differences 
of  States,  for  in  democracies  all  share  in  all,  in  oligarchies  the 
opposite  practice  prevails.  Now,  since  we  are  here  speaking 
of  the  best  form  of  government,  and  that  under  which  the  State 
will  be  most  happy  (and  happiness,  as  has  been  already  said, 
cannot  exist  without  virtue),  it  clearly  follows  that  in  the  State 
which  is  best  governed  the  citizens  who  are  absolutely  and  not 
merely  relatively  just  men  must  not  lead  the  life  of  mechanics 
or  tradesmen,  for  such  a  life  is  ignoble  and  inimical  to  virtue.; 
Neither  must  they  be  husbandmen,  since  leisure  is  necessary 
both  for  the  development  of  virtue  and  the  performance  of 
political  duties. 

Again,  there  is  in  a  State  a  class  of  warriors,  and  another 
of  councillors,  who  advise  about  the  expedient  and  determine 
i  Cp.  Plato,  Laws  xi.  919. 
12 


178  ARISTOTLE 

matters  of  law,  and  these  seem  in  an  especial  manner  parts  of 
a  State.  Now,  should  these  two  classes  be  distinguished,  or 
are  both  functions  to  be  assigned  to  the  same  persons?  Here 
again  there  is  no  difficulty  in  seeing  that  both  functions  will 
in  one  way  belong  to  the  same,  in  another,  to  different  persons. 
To  different  persons  in  so  far  as  their  employments  are  suited 
to  different  ages  of  life,  for  the  one  requires  wisdom,  and  the 
other  strength.  But  on  the  other  hand,  since  it  is  an  impos- 
sible thing  that  those  who  are  able  to  use  or  to  resist  force 
should  be  willing  to  remain  always  in  subjection,  from  this 
point  of  view  the  persons  are  the  same ;  for  those  who  carry 
arms  can  always  determine  the  fate  of  the  constitution.  It 
remains  therefore  that  both  functions  of  government  should 
be  entrusted  to  the  same  persons,  not,  however,  at  the  same 
time,  but  in  the  order  prescribed  by  nature,  who  has  given  to 
young  men  strength  and  to  older  men  wisdom.  Such  a  dis- 
tribution of  duties  will  be  expedient  and  also  just,  and  is 
founded  upon  a  principle  of  proportion.  Besides,  the  ruling 
class  should  be  the  owners  of  property,  for  they  are  citizens, 
and  the  citizens  of  a  State  should  be  in  good  circumstances; 
whereas  mechanics  or  any  other  class  whose  art  excludes  the 
art  of  virtue  have  no  share  in  the  State.  This  follows  from 
our  first  principle,  for  happiness  cannot  exist  without  virtue, 
and  a  city  is  not  to  be  termed  happy  in  regard  to  a  portion 
of  the  citizens,  but  in  regard  to  them  all.  And  clearly  property 
should  be  in  their  hands,  since  the  husbandmen  will  of  neces- 
sity be  slaves  or  barbarians  or  Perioeci. 

Of  the  classes  enumerated  there  remain  only  the  priests,  and 
the  manner  in  which  their  office  is  to  be  regulated  is  obvious. 
No  husbandman  or  mechanic  should  be  appointed  to  it;  for 
the  gods  should  receive  honor  from  the  citizens  only.  Now 
since  the  body  of  the  citizens  is  divided  into  two  classes,  the 
warriors  and  the  councillors;  and  it  is  beseeming  that  the 
worship  of  the  gods  should  be  duly  performed,  and  also  a  rest 
provided  in  their  service  for  those  who  from  age  have  given 
up  active  life — to  the  old  men  of  these  two  classes  should  be 
assigned  the  duties  of  the  priesthood. 

We  have  shown  what  are  the  necessary  conditions,  and  what 
the  parts  of  a  State :  husbandmen,  craftsmen,  and  laborers  of 
all  kinds  are  necessary  to  the  existence  of  States,  but  the  parts 
of  the  State  are  the  warriors  and  councillors.    And  these  are 


THE  POLITICS  179 

distingfuished  severally  from  one  another,  the  distinction  being 
in  some  cases  permanent,  in  others  not. 

It  is  no  new  or  recent  discovery  of  political  philosophers 
that  the  State  ought  to  be  divided  into  classes,  and  that  the 
warriors  should  be  separated  from  the  husbandmen.  The  sys- 
tem has  continued  in  Egypt  and  in  Crete  to  this  day,  and  was 
established,  as  tradition  says,  by  a  law  of  Sesostris  in  Egypt 
and  of  Minos  in  Crete.  The  institution  of  common  tables  also 
appears  to  be  of  ancient  date,  being  in  Crete  as  old  as  the  reign 
of  Minos,  and  in  Italy  far  older.  The  Italian  historians  say 
that  there  was  a  certain  Italus  king  of  CEnotria,  from  whom 
the  CEnotrians  were  called  Italians,  and  who  gave  the  name 
of  Italy  to  the  promontory  of  Europe  lying  between  the  Scyl- 
letic  and  Lametic  gulfs,  which  are  distant  from  one  another 
only  half-a-day's  journey.  They  say  that  this  Italus  converted 
the  CEnotrians  from  shepherds  into  husbandmen,  and  besides 
other  laws  which  he  gave  them,  was  the  founder  of  their  com- 
mon meals;  even  in  our  day  some  who  are  derived  from  him 
retain  this  institution  and  certain  other  laws  of  his.  On  the 
side  of  Italy  towards  Tyrrhenia  dwelt  the  Opici,  who  are  now, 
as  of  old,  called  Ausones;  and  on  the  side  towards  lapygia 
and  the  Ionian  Gulf,  in  the  district  called  Syrtis,  the  Chones, 
who  are  likewise  of  CEnotrian  race.  From  this  part  of  the 
world  originally  came  the  institution  of  common  tables;  the 
separation  into  castes  [which  was  much  older]  from  Egypt, 
for  the  reign  of  Sesostris  is  of  far  greater  antiquity  than  that 
of  Minos.  It  is  true  indeed  that  these  and  many  other  things 
have  been  invented  several  times  over  *  in  the  course  of  ages, 
or  rather  times  without  number ;  for  necessity  may  be  supposed 
to  have  taught  men  the  inventions  which  were  absolutely  re- 
quired, and  when  these  were  provided,  it  was  natural  that 
other  things  which  would  adorn  and  enrich  life  should  grow 
up  by  degrees.  And  we  may  infer  that  in  political  institutions 
the  same  rule  holds.  Egypt  I  witnesses  to  the  antiquity  of  all 
things,  for  the  Egyptians  appear  to  be  of  all  people  the  most 
ancient ;  and  they  have  laws  and  a  regular  constitution  [exist- 
ing from  time  immemorial].    We  should  therefore  make  the 

*  Cp.  Plato,  Laws  iii.  676;  Aristotle,  Metaph.  xi.  8.  1074  b.  10;  and 
Pol.  ii.  5.  §  16  (note). 

/Cp.  Metaph.  i.  c.  i.  9  16;  Meteor,  i.  14,  352  b.  19;  Plato,  Timaeus 
22  B;  Laws  ii.  656,  657. 


i8o  ARISTOTLE 

best  use  of  what  has  been  already  discovered,  and  try  to  sup- 
ply defects. 

I  have  already  remarked  that  the  land  ought  to  belong  to 
those  who  possess  arms  and  have  a  share  in  the  government, 
and  that  the  husbandmen  ought  to  be  a  class  distinct  from 
them;  and  I  have  determined  what  should  be  the  extent  and 
nature  of  the  territory.  Let  me  proceed  to  discuss  the  dis- 
tribution of  the  land,  and  the  character  of  the  agricultural 
class;  for  I  do  not  think  that  property  ought  to  be  common, 
as  some  maintain,  but  only  that  by  friendly  consent  there  should 
be  a  common  use  of  it ;  and  that  no  citizen  should  be  in  want 
of  subsistence. 

As  to  common  meals,  there  is  a  general  agreement  that  a 
well-ordered  city  should  have  them;  and  we  will  hereafter 
explain  what  are  our  own  reasons  for  taking  this  view.  They 
ought,  however,  to  be  open  to  all  the  citizens.  And  yet  it  is 
not  easy  for  the  poor  to  contribute  the  requisite  sum  out  of 
their  private  means,  and  to  provide  also  for  their  household. 
The  expense  of  religious  worship  should  likewise  be  a  public 
charge.  The  land  must  therefore  be  divided  into  two  parts, 
one  public  and  the  other  private,  and  each  part  should  be  sub- 
divided, half  of  the  public  land  being  appropriated  to  the  ser- 
vice of  the  gods,  and  the  other  half  used  to  defray  the  cost 
of  the  common  meals;  while  of  the  private  land,  half  should 
be  near  the  border,  and  the  other  near  the  city,  so  that  each 
citizen  having  two  lots  they  may  all  of  them  have  land  in 
both  places;  there  is  justice  and  fairness  in  such  a  division.^* 
and  it  tends  to  inspire  unanimity  among  the  people  in  their 
border  wars.  Where  there  is  not  this  arrangement,  some  of 
them  are  too  ready  to  come  to  blows  with  their  neighbors, 
while  others  are  so  cautious  that  they  quite  lose  the  sense  of 
honor.  Wherefore  there  is  a  law  in  some  places  which  forbids 
those  who  dwell  near  the  border  to  take  part  in  public  delib- 
erations about  wars  with  neighbors,  on  the  ground  that  their 
interests  will  pervert  their  judgment.  For  the  reasons  already 
mentioned  then,  the  land  should  be  divided  in  the  manner 
described.  The  very  best  thing  of  all  would  be  that  the  hus- 
bandmen should  be  slaves,  not  all  of  the  same  race  «  and  not 

m  Cp.  Plato,  Laws  v.  745,  where  the  same  proposal  is  found.    Aris- 
totle, in  Book  ii.,  condemns  the  division  of  lots  which  he  here  adopts. 
H  Cp.  Plato,  Laws  vi.  777. 


THE  POLITICS  i8i 

spirited,  for  if  they  have  no  spirit  they  will  be  better  suited 
for  their  work,  and  there  will  be  no  danger  of  their  making 
a  revolution.  The  next  best  thing  would  be  that  they  should 
be  Perioeci  of  foreign  race,  and  of  a  like  inferior  nature ;  some 
of  them  should  be  the  slaves  of  individuals,  and  employed  on 
the  private  estates  of  men  of  property,  the  remainder  should 
be  the  property  of  the  State  and  employed  on  the  common 
land.  I  will  hereafter  explain  what  is  the  proper  treatment  of 
slaves,  and  why  it  is  expedient  that  liberty  should  be  always 
held  out  to  them  as  the  reward  of  their  services. 

We  have  already  said  that  the  city  should  be  open  to  the 
land  and  to  the  sea,  and  to  the  whole  country  as  far  as  possible. 
In  respect  of  the  place  itself  our  wish  would  be  to  find  a  situa- 
tion for  it,  fortunate  in  four  things.  The  first,  health — this 
is  a  necessity :  cities  which  lie  towards  the  east,  and  are  blown 
upon  by  winds  coming  from  the  east,  are  the  healthiest;  next 
in  healthfulness  are  those  which  are  sheltered  from  the  north 
wind,  for  they  have  a  milder  winter.  The  site  of  the  city 
should  likewise  be  convenient  both  for  political  administration 
and  for  war.  With  a  view  to  the  latter  it  should  afford  easy 
egress  to  the  citizens,  and  at  the  same  time  be  inaccessible  and 
difficult  of  capture  to  enemies.  There  should  be  a  natural 
abundance  of  springs  and  fountains  in  the  town,  or,  if  there 
is  a  deficiency  of  them,  great  reservoirs  may  be  established  for 
the  collection  of  rain-water,  such  as  will  not  fail  when  the 
inhabitants  are  cut  off  from  the  country  by  war.  Special  care 
should  be  taken  of  the  health  of  the  inhabitants,  which  will 
depend  chiefly  on  the  healthiness  of  the  locality  and  of  the 
quarter  to  which  they  are  exposed,  and  secondly,  on  the  use  of 
pure  water;  this  latter  point  is  by  no  means  a  secondary  con- 
sideration. For  the  elements  which  we  use  most  and  oftenest 
for  the  support  of  the  body  contribute  most  to  health,  and 
among  these  are  water  and  air.  Wherefore,  in  all  wise  States, 
if  there  is  a  want  of  pure  water,  and  the  supply  is  not  all 
equally  good,  the  drinking  water  ought  to  be  separated  from 
that  which  is  used  for  other  purposes. 

As  to  strongholds,  what  is  suitable  to  different  forms  of 
government  varies :  thus  an  acropolis  is  suited  to  an  oligarchy 
or  a  monarchy,  but  a  plain  to  a  democracy ;  neither  to  an 
aristocracy,  but  rather  a  number  of  strong  places.  The  ar- 
rangement of  private  houses  is  considered  to  be  more  agree- 


i82  ARISTOTLE 

able  and  generally  more  convenient,  if  the  streets  are  regularly 
laid  out  after  the  modern  fashion  which  Hippodamus  intro- 
duced, but  for  security  in  war  the  antiquated  mode  of  building, 
which  made  it  difficult  for  strangers  to  get  out  of  a  town  and 
for  assailants  to  find  their  way  in,  is  preferable.  A  city  should 
therefore  adopt  both  plans  of  building :  it  is  possible  to  arrange 
the  houses  irregularly,  as  husbandmen  plant  their  vines  in 
what  are  called  "  clumps."  The  whole  town  should  not  be 
laid  out  in  straight  lines,  but  only  certain  quarters  and  regions ; 
thus  security  and  beauty  will  be  combined. 

As  to  walls,  those  who  say  o  that  cities  making  any  pre- 
tension to  military  virtue  should  not  have  them  are  quite  out 
of  date  in  their  notions ;  and  they  may  see  the  cities  which 
prided  themselves  of  this  fancy  confuted  by  facts.  True,  there 
is  little  courage  shown  in  seeking  for  safety  behind  a  ram- 
part when  an  enemy  is  similar  in  character  and  not  much 
superior  in  number;  but  the  superiority  of  the  besiegers  may 
be  and  often  is  beyond  the  power  of  men  to  resist,  and  too 
much  for  the  valor  of  a  few ;  and  if  they  are  to  be  saved  and 
to  escape  defeat  and  outrage,  the  strongest  wall  will  be  the 
best  defence  of  the  warrior,  more  especially  now  that  catapults 
and  siege  engines  have  been  brought  to  such  perfection.  To 
have  no  walls  would  be  as  foolish  as  to  choose  a  site  for  a 
town  in  an  exposed  country,  and  to  level  the  heights ;  or  as 
if  an  individual  were  to  leave  his  house  unwalled,  lest  the  in- 
mates should  become  cowards.  Nor  must  we  forget  that 
those  who  have  their  cities  surrounded  by  walls  may  either 
take  advantage  of  them  or  not,  but  cities  which  are  unwalled 
have  no  choice. 

If  our  conclusions  are  just,  not  only  should  cities  have  walls, 
but  care  should  be  taken  to  make  them  ornamental,  as  well  as 
useful  for  warlike  purposes,  and  adapted  to  resist  modern  in- 
ventions. For  as  the  assailants  of  a  city  do  all  they  can  to 
gain  an  advantage,  so  the  defenders  should  make  use  of  any 
means  of  defence  which  have  been  already  discovered,  and 
should  devise  and  invent  others,  for  when  men  are  well  pre- 
pared no  enemy  even  thinks  of  attacking  them. 

As  the  walls  are  to  be  divided  by  guardhouses  and  towers 
built  at  suitable  intervals,  and  the  body  of  citizens  must  be 
distributed  at  common  tables,  the  idea  will  naturally  occur  that 
o  Cp.  Plato,  Laws  vi.  778,  779. 


THE  POLITICS  183 

we  should  establish  some  of  the  common  tables  in  the  guard- 
houses. The  arrangement  might  be  as  follows:  the  principal 
common  tables  of  the  magistrates  will  occupy  a  suitable  place, 
and  there  also  will  be  the  buildings  appropriated  to  religious 
worship  except  in  the  case  of  those  rites  which  the  law  or 
the  Pythian  oracle  has  restricted  to  a  special  locality./*  The 
site  should  be  a  spot  seen  far  and  wide,  which  gives  due  eleva- 
tion to  virtue  and  towers  over  the  neighborhood.  Near  this 
spot  should  be  established  an  agora,  such  as  that  which  the 
Thessalians  call  the  "freemen's  agora";  from  this  all  trade 
should  be  excluded,  and  no  mechanic,  husbandman,  or  any  such 
person  allowed  to  enter,  unless  he  be  summoned  by  the  magis- 
trates. It  would  be  a  charming  use  of  the  place,  if  the  gym- 
nastic exercises  of  the  elder  men  were  performed  there.  For 
in  this  noble  practice  different  ages  should  be  separated,  and 
some  of  the  magistrates  should  stay  with  the  boys,  while  the 
grown-up  men  remain  with  the  magistrates  [i.e.  in  the  free- 
man's agora]  ;  for  the  presence  of  the  magistrates  is  the  best 
mode  of  inspiring  true  modesty  and  ingenuous  fear.  There 
should  also  be  a  traders'  agora,  distinct  and  apart  from  the 
other,  in  a  situation  which  is  convenient  for  the  reception  of 
goods  both  by  sea  and  land. 

But  in  speaking  of  the  magistrates  we  must  not  forget  an- 
other section  of  the  citizens,  viz.,  the  priests,  for  whom  public 
tables  should  likewise  be  provided  in  their  proper  place  near 
the  temples.  The  magistrates  who  deal  with  contracts,  indict- 
ments, summonses,  and  the  like,  and  those  who  have  the  care 
of  the  agora  and  of  the  city  respectively,  ought  to  be  estab- 
lished near  the  agora  and  in  some  public  place  of  meeting ;  the 
neighborhood  of  the  traders'  agora  will  be  a  suitable  spot ;  the 
upper  agora  we  devote  to  the  life  of  leisure,  the  other  is  in- 
tended for  the  necessities  of  trade. 

The  same  order  should  prevail  in  the  country,  for  there  too 
the  magistrates,  called  by  some  "  inspectors  of  forests,"  and 
by  others  "  wardens  of  the  country,"  must  have  guardhouses 
and  common  tables  while  they  are  on  duty;  temples  should 
also  be  scattered  throughout  the  country,  dedicated,  some  to 
gods,  and  some  to  heroes. 

But  it  would  be  a  waste  of  time  for  us  to  linger  over  details 
like  these.  The  difficulty  is  not  in  imagining  but  in  carrying 
P  Cp.  Plato,  Laws  vi.  778;  viii.  848;  v.  738;  vi.  759. 


t84  ARISTOTLE 

them  out.  We  may  talk  about  them  as  much  as  we  like,  but 
the  execution  of  them  will  depend  upon  fortune.  Wherefore 
let  us  say  no  more  about  these  matters  for  the  present. 

Returning  to  the  constitution  itself,  let  us  seek  to  determine 
out  of  what  and  what  sort  of  elements  the  State  which  is  to 
be  happy  and  well  governed  should  be  composed.  There  are 
two  things  in  which  all  well-being  consists,  one  of  them  is  the 
choice  of  a  right  end  and  aim  of  action,  and  the  other  the  dis- 
covery of  the  actions  which  are  means  towards  it;  for  the 
means  and  the  end  may  agree  or  disagree.  Sometimes  the 
right  end  is  set  before  men,  but  in  practice  they  fail  to  attain 
it ;  in  other  cases  they  are  successful  in  all  the  means,  but  they 
propose  to  themselves  a  bad  end,  and  sometimes  they  fail  in 
both.  Take,  for  example,  the  art  of  medicine;  physicians  do 
not  always  understand  the  nature  of  health,  and  also  the  means 
which  they  use  may  not  effect  the  desired  end.  In  all  arts 
and  sciences  both  the  end  and  the  means  should  be  equally 
within  our  control. 

The  happiness  and  well-being  which  all  men  manifestly  de- 
sire, some  have  the  power  of  attaining,  but  to  others,  from  some 
accident  or  defect  of  nature,  the  attainment  of  them  is  not 
granted ;  for  a  good  life  requires  a  supply  of  external  goods, 
in  a  less  degree  when  men  are  in  a  good  state,  in  a  greater  degree 
when  they  are  in  a  lower  state.  Others  again,  who  possess 
the  condition  of  happiness,  go  utterly  wrong  from  the  first  in 
the  pursuit  of  it.  But  since  our  object  is  to  discover  the  best 
form  of  government,  that,  namely,  under  which  a  city  will  be 
best  governed,  and  since  the  city  is  best  governed  which  has 
the  greatest  opportunity  of  obtaining  happiness,  it  is  evident 
that  we  must  clearly  ascertain  the  nature  of  happiness. 

We  have  said  in  the  "  Ethics,"?  if  the  arguments  there 
adduced  are  of  any  value,  that  happiness  is  the  realization 
and  perfect  exercise  of  virtue,  and  this  not  conditional,  but 
absolute.  And  I  used  the  term  "  conditional "  to  express  that 
which  is  indispensable,  and  "  absolute  "  to  express  that  which 
is  good  in  itself.  Take  the  case  of  just  actions ;  just  punish- 
ments and  chastisements  do  indeed  spring  from  a  good  prin- 
ciple, but  they  are  good  only  because  we  cannot  do  without 
them — it  would  be  better  that  neither  individuals  nor  States 
should  need  anything  of  the  sort — but  actions  which  aim  at 
gCp.  Nic.  Eth  i.  7.  §  15;   x.  6.  §  2. 


THE  POLITICS  185 

honor  and  advantage  are  absolutely  the  best.  The  conditional 
action  is  only  the  choice  of  a  lesser  evil ;  whereas  these  are  the 
foundation  and  creation  of  good.  A  good  man  may  make  the 
best  even  of  poverty  and  disease,  and  the  other  ills  of  life ;  but 
he  can  only  attain  happiness  under  the  opposite  conditions.*' 
As  we  have  already  said  in  the  "  Ethics/'-y  the  good  man  is  he 
to  whom,  because  he  is  virtuous,  the  absolute  good  is  his 
good.  It  is  also  plain  that  his  use  of  other  goods  must  be 
virtuous  and  in  the  absolute  sense  good.  This  makes  men 
fancy  that  external  goods  are  the  cause  of  happiness,  yet  we 
might  as  well  say  that  a  brilliant  performance  on  the  lyre 
was  to  be  attributed  to  the  instrument  and  not  to  the  skill 
of  the  performer. 

It  follows  then  from  what  has  been  said  that  some  things 
the  legislator  must  find  ready  to  his  hand  in  a  State,  others 
he  must  provide.  And  therefore  we  can  only  say:  May  our 
State  be  constituted  in  such  a  manner  as  to  be  blessed  with 
the  goods  of  which  fortune  disposes  (for  we  acknowledge 
her  power) :  whereas  virtue  and  goodness  in  the  State  are  not 
a  matter  of  chance,  but  the  result  of  knowledge  and  purpose. 
A  city  can  be  virtuous  only  when  the  citizens  who  have  a 
share  in  the  government  are  virtuous,  and  in  our  State  all 
the  citizens  share  in  the  government ;  let  us  then  inquire  how 
a  man  becomes  virtuous.  For  even  if  we  could  suppose  all 
the  citizens  to  be  virtuous,  and  not  each  of  them,  yet  the  latter 
would  be  better,  for  in  the  virtue  of  each  the  virtue  of  all  is 
involved. 

There  are  three  things  which  make  men  good  and  virtuous : 
these  are  nature,  habit,  reason.*  In  the  first  place,  everyone 
must  be  born  a  man  and  not  some  other  animal ;  in  the  second 
place,  he  must  have  a  certain  character,  both  of  body  and  soul. 
But  some  qualities  there  is  no  use  in  having  at  birth,  for  they 
are  altered  by  habit,  and  there  are  some  gifts  of  nature  which 
may  be  turned  by  habit  to  good  or  bad.  Most  animals  lead 
a  life  of  nature,  although  in  lesser  particulars  some  are  in- 
fluenced by  habit  as  well.  Man  has  reason,  in  addition,  and 
man  only.  Wherefore  nature,  habit,  reason  must  be  in  har~ 
mony  with  one  another  [for  they  do  not  always  agree] ;  men 

r  Nic.  Eth.  1.  c.  10.  §§  12-14. 

J  Ibid.  Hi.  c.  4.  §§  4,  5 ;  E.  E.  vii.  15.    §  4;  M.  M.  ii.  9.  5  3. 

t  Cp.  N.  Eth.  X.  9.  §  6. 


i86  ARISTOTLE 

do  many  things  against  habit  and  nature,  if  reason  persuades 
them  that  they  ought.  We  have  already  determined  what 
natures  are  likely  to  be  most  easily  moulded  by  the  hands  of 
the  legislator.  All  else  is  the  work  of  education;  we  learn 
some  things  by  habit  and  some  by  instruction. 

Since  every  political  society  is  composed  of  rulers  and  sub- 
jects, let  us  consider  whether  the  relations  of  one  to  the  other 
should  interchange  or  be  permanent.  For  the  education  of  the 
citizens  will  necessarily  vary  with  the  answer  given  to  this 
question.  Now,  if  some  men  excelled  others  in  the  same  degree 
in  which  gods  and  heroes  are  supposed  to  excel  mankind  in 
general,  having  in  the  first  place  a  great  advantage  even  in 
their  bodies,  and  secondly  in  their  minds,  so  that  the  superiority 
of  the  governors  over  their  subjects  was  patent  and  undis- 
puted, it  would  clearly  be  better  that  once  for  all  the  one 
class  should  rule  and  the  other  serve.  But  since  this  is  unat- 
tainable, and  kings  have  no  marked  superiority  over  their  sub- 
jects, such  as  Scylax  affirms  to  be  found  among  the  Indians, 
it  is  obviously  necessary  on  many  grounds  that  all  the  citizens 
alike  should  take  their  turn  of  governing  and  being  governed. 
Equality  consists  in  the  same  treatment  of  similar  persons,  and 
no  government  can  stand  which  is  not  founded  upon  justice. 
For  [if  the  government  be  unjust]  everyone  in  the  country 
unites  with  the  governed  in  the  desire  to  have  a  revolution, 
and  it  is  an  impossibility  that  the  members  of  the  government 
can  be  so  numerous  as  to  be  stronger  than  all  their  enemies 
put  together.  Yet  that  governors  should  excel  their  subjects 
is  undeniable.  How  all  this  is  to  be  effected,  and  in  what  way 
they  will  respectively  share  in  the  government,  the  legislator 
has  to  consider.  The  subject  has  been  already  mentioned. 
Nature  herself  has  given  the  principle  of  choice  when  she  made 
a  difference  between  old  and  young  (though  they  are  really  the 
same  in  kind),  of  whom  she  fitted  the  one  to  govern  and  the 
others  to  be  governed.  No  one  takes  offence  at  being  governed 
when  he  is  young,  nor  does  he  think  himself  better  than  his 
governors,  especially  if  he  will  enjoy  the  same  privilege  when 
he  reaches  the  required  age.. 

We  conclude  that  from  one  point  of  view  governors  and 
governed  are  identical,  and  from  another  different.  And  there- 
fore their  education  must  be  the  same  and  also  different.  For 
he  who  would  learn  to  command  well  must,  as  men  say,  first 


THE  POLITICS  187 

of  all  learn  to  obey.  As  I  observed  in  the  first  part  of  this 
treatise,  there  is  one  rule  which  is  for  the  sake  of  the  rulers 
and  another  rule  which  is  for  the  sake  of  the  ruled ;  the  former 
is  a  despotic,  the  latter  a  free  government.  Some  commands 
differ  not  in  the  thing  commanded,  but  in  the  intention  with 
which  they  are  imposed.  Wherefore,  many  apparently  menial 
offices  are  an  honor  to  the  free  youth  by  whom  they  are  per- 
formed ;  for  actions  do  not  differ  as  honorable  or  dishonor- 
able in  themselves  so  much  as  in  the  end  and  intention  of 
them.  But  since  we  say  that  the  virtue  of  the  citizen  and  ruler 
is  the  same  as  that  of  the  good  man,  and  that  the  same  person 
must  first  be  a  subject  and  then  a  ruler,  the  legislator  has  to 
see  that  they  become  good  men,  and  by  what  means  this  may 
be  accomplished,  and  what  is  the  end  of  the  perfect  life. 

Now  the  soul  of  man  is  divided  into  two  parts,  one  of  which 
has  reason  in  itself,  and  the  other,  not  having  reason  in  itself, 
is  able  to  obey  reason."  And  we  call  a  man  good  because  he 
has  the  virtues  of  these  two  parts.  In  which  of  them  the  end 
is  more  likely  to  be  found  is  no  matter  of  doubt  to  those  who 
adopt  our  division;  for  in  the  world  both  of  nature  and  of 
art  the  inferior  always  exists  for  the  sake  of  the  better  or 
superior,  and  the  better  or  superior  is  that  which  has  reason. 
The  reason  too,  in  our  ordinary  way  of  speaking,  is  divided 
into  two  parts,  for  there  is  a  practical  and  a  speculative  rea- 
son,^'  and  there  must  be  a  corresponding  division  of  actions; 
the  actions  of  the  naturally  better  principle  are  to  be  preferred 
by  those  who  have  it  in  their  power  to  attain  to  both  or  to 
all,  for  that  is  always  to  everyone  the  most  eligible  which  is 
the  highest  attainable  by  him.  The  whole  of  life  is  further 
divided  into  two  parts,  business  and  leisure,w  war  and  peace, 
and  all  actions  into  those  which  are  necessary  and  useful,  and 
those  which  are  honorable.  And  the  preference  given  to  one 
or  the  other  class  of  actions  must  necessarily  be  like  the  prefer- 
ence given  to  one  or  other  part  of  the  soul  and  its  actions  over 
the  other;  there  must  be  war  for  the  sake  of  peace,  business 
for  the  sake  of  leisure,  things  useful  and  necessary  for  the 
sake  of  things  honorable.  All  these  points  the  statesman  should 
keep  in  view  when  he  frames  his  laws ;  he  should  consider  the 
parts  of  the  soul  and  their  functions,  and  above  all  the  better 

«Cp.  Nic.  Eth.  i.  13.  §§  18,  19. 
vibid.  vi.  I.  §  5;   II.  S  4.  wN.  E.  X.  7.  §  6. 


i88  ARISTOTLE 

and  the  end ;  he  should  also  remember  the  diversities  of  human 
Hves  and  actions.  For  men  must  engage  in  business  and  go 
to  war,  but  leisure  and  peace  are  better;  they  must  do  what 
is  necessary  and  useful,  but  what  is  honorable  is  better.  In 
such  principles  children  and  persons  of  every  age  which  re- 
quires education  should  be  trained.  Whereas  even  the  Hel- 
lenes of  the  present  day,  who  are  reputed  to  be  best  governed, 
and  the  legislators  who  gave  them  their  constitutions,  do  not 
appear  to  have  framed  their  governments  with  a  regard  to  the 
best  end,  or  to  have  given  them  laws  and  education  with  a  view; 
to  all  the  virtues,  but  in  a  vulgar  spirit  have  fallen  back  on 
those  which  promised  to  be  more  useful  and  profitable.  Many 
modern  writers  have  taken  a  similar  view :  they  commend  the 
Lacedaemonian  constitution,  and  praise  the  legislator  for 
making  conquest  and  war  his  sole  aim,^  a  doctrine  which  may 
be  refuted  by  argument  and  has  long  ago  been  refuted  by 
facts.  •  For  most  men  desire  empire  in  the  hope  of  accumulat- 
ing the  goods  of  fortune ;  and  on  this  ground  Thibron  and  all 
those  who  have  written  about  the  Lacedaemonian  constitution 
have  praised  their  legislator,  because  the  Lacedaemonians,  by 
a  training  in  hardships,  gained  great  power.  But  surely  they 
are  not  a  happy  people  now  that  their  empire  has  passed  away, 
nor  was  their  legislator  right.  How  ridiculous  is  the  result, 
if,  while  they  are  continuing  in  the  observance  of  his  laws 
and  no  one  interferes  with  them,  they  have  lost  the  better 
part  of  life.  These  writers  further  err  about  the  sort  of  gov- 
ernment which  the  legislator  should  approve,  for  the  govern- 
ment of  freemen  is  noble,  and  implies  more  virtue  than  despotic 
government.  Neither  is  a  city  to  be  deemed  happy  or  a  legis- 
lator to  be  praised  because  he  trains  his  citizens  to  conquer 
and  obtain  dominion  over  their  neighbors,  for  there  is  great 
evil  in  this.  On  a  similar  principle  any  citizen  who  could,  would 
obviously  try  to  obtain  the  power  in  his  own  State — the  crime 
which  the  Lacedaemonians  accuse  King  Pausanias  of  attempt- 
ing, although  he  had  so  great  honor  already.  No  such  prin- 
ciple and  no  law  having  this  object  is  either  statesmanlike  or 
useful  or  right.  For  the  same  things  are  best  both  for  indi- 
viduals and  for  States,  and  these  are  the  things  which  the 
legislator  ought  to  implant  in  the  minds  of  his  citizens.  Neither 
should  men  study  war  with  a  view  to  the  enslavement  of  those 
X  Plato,  Laws  i.  628,  638. 


THE  POLITICS  189 

who  do  not  deserve  to  be  enslaved ;  but  first  of  all  they  should 
provide  against  their  own  enslavement,  and  in  the  second  place 
obtain  empire  for  the  good  of  the  governed,  and  not  for  the 
sake  of  exercising  a  general  despotism,  ^nd  in  the  third  place 
they  should  seek  to  be  masters  only  over  those  who  deserve 
to  be  slaves.  Facts,  as  well  as  arguments,  prove  that  the  legis- 
lator should  direct  all  his  military  and  other  measures  to  the 
provision  of  leisure  and  the  establishment  of  peace.  For  most 
of  these  military  States  are  safe  only  while  they  are  at  war,  but 
fall  when  they  have  acquired  their  empire;  like  unused  iron 
they  rust  y  in  time  of  peace.  And  for  this  the  legislator  is  to 
blame,  he  never  having  taught  them  how  to  lead  the  life  of 
peace. 

Since  the  end  of  individuals  and  of  States  is  the  same,  the 
end  of  the  best  man  and  of  the  best  State  must  also  be  the 
same ;  it  is  therefore  evident  that  there  ought  to  exist  in  both 
of  them  the  virtues  of  leisure ;  for  peace,  as  has  been  often 
repeated,  is  the  end  of  war,  and  leisure  of  toil.  But  leisure  and 
cultivation  may  be  promoted,  not  only  by  those  virtues  which 
are  practised  in  leisure,  but  also  by  some  of  those  which  are 
useful  to  business.2  For  many  necessaries  of  life  have  to  be 
supplied  before  we  can  have  leisure.  Therefore  a  city  must 
be  temperate  and  brave,  and  able  to  endure:  for  truly,  as  the 
proverb  says,  "  There  is  no  leisure  for  slaves,"  and  those  who 
cannot  face  danger  like  men  are  the  slaves  of  any  invader. 
Courage  and  endurance  are  required  for  business  and  phi- 
losophy for  leisure,  temperance  and  justice  for  both,  more 
especially  in  times  of  peace  and  leisure,  for  war  compels  men 
to  be  just  and  temperate,  whereas  the  enjoyment  of  good 
fortune  and  the  leisure  which  comes  with  peace  tends  to  make 
them  insolent.  Those  then,  who  seem  to  be  the  best-off  and 
to  be  in  the  possession  of  every  good,  have  special  need  of 
justice  and  temperance — for  example,  those  (if  such  there  be, 
as  the  poets  say)  who  dwell  in  the  Islands  of  the  Blest;  they 
above  all  will  need  philosophy  and  temperance  and  justice, 
and  all  the  more  the  more  leisure  they  have,  living  in  the 
midst  of  abundance.  There  is  no  difficulty  in  seeing  why  the 
State  that  would  be  happy  and  good  ought  to  have  these  virtues. 

y  Lit.  "  they  lose  their  edge." 

3  i.e.  "  not  only  by  some  of  the  speculative  but  also  by  some  of  the 
practical  virtues." 


I90  ARISTOTLE 

If  it  be  disgraceful  in  man  not  to  be  able  to  use  the  goods 
of  life,  it  is  peculiarly  disgraceful  not  to  be  able  to  use  them 
in  time  of  peace — to  show  excellent  qualities  in  action  and 
war,  and  when  they  have  peace  and  leisure  to  be  no  better 
than  slaves.  Wherefore  we  should  not  practice  virtue  after 
the  manner  of  the  Lacedaemonians.  For  they,  while  agree- 
ing with  other  men  in  their  conception  of  the  highest  goods, 
differ  from  the  rest  of  mankind  in  thinking  that  they  are  to 
be  obtained  by  the  practice  of  a  single  virtue.  And  since  these 
goods  and  the  enjoyment  of  them  are  clearly  greater  than 
the  enjoyment  derived  from  the  virtues  of  which  they  are  the 
end,  we  must  now  consider  how  and  by  what  means  they  are 
to  be  attained. 

We  have  already  determined  that  nature  and  habit  and 
reason  are  required,  and  what  should  be  the  character  of  the 
citizens  has  also  been  defined  by  us.  But  we  have  still  to  con- 
sider whether  the  training  of  early  life  is  to  be  that  of  reason 
or  habit,  for  these  two  must  accord,  and  when  in  accord  they 
will  then  form  the  best  of  harmonies.  Reason  may  make  mis- 
takes and  fail  in  attaining  the  highest  ideal  of  life,  and  there 
may  be  a  like  evil  influence  of  habit.  Thus  much  is  clear  in 
the  first  place,  that,  as  in  all  other  things,  birth  implies  some 
antecedent  principle,  and  that  the  end  of  anything  has  a  be- 
ginning in  some  former  end.  Now,  in  men  reason  and  mind 
are  the  end  towards  which  nature  strives,  so  that  the  birth  and 
moral  discipline  of  the  citizens  ought  to  be  ordered  with  a 
view  to  them.  In  the  second  place,  as  the  soul  and  body  are 
two,  we  see  that  there  are  two  parts  of  the  soul,  the  rational 
and  the  irrational,a  and  two  corresponding  states — reason  and 
appetite.  And  as  the  body  is  prior  in  order  of  generation  to 
the  soul,  so  the  irrational  is  prior  to  the  rational.  The  proof 
is  that  anger  and  will  and  desire  are  implanted  in  children 
from  their  very  birth,  but  reason  and  understanding  are  de- 
veloped as  they  grow  older.  Wherefore,  the  care  of  the  body 
ought  to  precede  that  of  the  soul,  and  the  training  of  the 
appetitive  part  should  follow;  none  the  less  our  care  of  it 
must  be  for  the  sake  of  the  reason,  and  our  care  of  the  body 
for  the  sake  of  the  soul.* 

Since  the  legislator  should  begin  by  considering  how  the 
frames  of  the  children  whom  he  is  rearing  may  be  as  good  as 
a  Cp.  N.  Eth.  i.  13.  §  9  ff .  b  Cp.  Plato  Rep.  iii.  410. 


THE  POLITICS  *  191 

possible,  his  first  care  will  be  about  marriage — at  what  age 
should  his  citizens  marry,  and  who  are  fit  to  marry?  In  legis- 
lating on  this  subject  he  ought  to  consider  the  persons  and  their 
relative  ages,  that  there  may  be  no  disproportion  in  them,  and 
that  they  may  not  differ  in  their  bodily  powers,  as  will  be  the 
case  if  the  man  is  still  able  to  beget  children  while  the  woman 
is  unable  to  bear  them,  or  the  woman  able  to  bear  while  the 
man  is  unable  to  beget,  for  from  these  causes  arise  quarrels 
and  differences  between  married  persons.  Secondly,  he  must 
consider  the  time  at  which  the  children  will  succeed  to  their 
parents;  there  ought  not  to  be  too  great  an  interval  of  age, 
for  then  the  parents  will  be  too  old  to  derive  any  pleasure 
from  their  affection,  or  to  be  of  any  use  to  them.  Nor  ought 
they  to  be  too  nearly  of  an  age ;  to  youthful  marriages  there 
are  many  objections — the  children  will  be  wanting  in  respect 
to  the  parents,  who  will  seem  to  be  their  contemporaries, 
and  disputes  will  arise  in  the  management  of  the  household. 
Thirdly,  and  this  is  the  point  from  which  we  digressed,  the 
legislator  must  mould  to  his  will  the  frames  of  newly  born 
children.  Almost  all  these  objects  may  be  secured  by  attention 
to  one  point.  Since  the  time  of  generation  is  commonly  limited 
within  the  age  of  seventy  years  in  the  case  of  a  man,  and  of 
fifty  in  the  case  of  a  woman,  the  commencement  of  the  union 
should  conform  to  these  periods.  The  union  of  male  and  female 
when  too  young  is  bad  for  the  procreation  of  children ;  in  all 
other  animals  the  offspring  of  the  young  are  small  and  ill- 
developed,  and  generally  of  the  female  sex,  and  therefore  also 
in  man,  as  is  proved  by  the  fact  that  in  those  cities  in  which 
men  and  women  are  accustomed  to  marry  young,  the  people 
are  small  and  weak ;  in  childbirth  also  younger  women  suffer 
more,  and  more  of  them  die ;  some  persons  say  that  this  was 
the  meaning  of  the  response  once  given  to  the  Troezenians — 
["  Shear  not  the  young  field  "] — the  oracle  really  meant  that 
many  died  because  they  married  too  young;  it  had  nothing 
to  do  with  the  ingathering  of  the  harvest.  It  also  conduces 
to  temperance  not  to  marry  too  soon ;  for  women  who  marry 
early  are  apt  to  be  wanton ;  and  in  men  too  the  bodily  frame 
is  stunted  if  they  marry  while  they  are  growing  (for  there  is 
a  time  when  the  growth  of  the  body  ceases).  Women  should 
marry  when  they  are  about  eighteen  years  of  age,  and  men 
at  seven  and  thirty;   then  they  are  in  the  prime  of  life,  and 


193 


ARISTOTLE 


the  decline  in  the  powers  of  both  will  coincide.  Further,  the 
children,  if  their  birth  takes  place  at  the  time  that  may  rea- 
sonably be  expected,  will  succeed  in  their  prime,  when  the 
fathers  are  already  in  the  decline  of  life,  and  have  nearly 
reached  their  term  of  three-score  years  and  ten. 

Thus  much  of  the  age  proper  for  marriage:  the  season  of 
the  year  should  also  be  considered;  according  to  our  present 
custom,  people  generally  limit  marriage  to  the  season  of  winter, 
and  they  are  right.  The  precepts  of  physicians  and  natural 
philosophers  about  generation  should  also  be  studied  by  the 
parents  themselves;  the  physicians  give  good  advice  about 
the  right  age  of  the  body,  and  the  natural  philosophers  about 
the  winds;    of  which  they  prefer  the  north  to  the  south. 

What  constitution  in  the  parent  is  most  advantageous  to 
the  offspring  is  a  subject  which  we  will  hereafter  consider 
when  we  speak  of  the  education  of  children,  and  we  will  only 
make  a  few  general  remarks  at  present.  The  temperament 
of  an  athlete  is  not  suited  to  the  life  of  a  citizen,  or  to  health, 
or  to  the  procreation  of  children,  any  more  than  the  valetudi- 
narian or  exhausted  constitution,  but  one  which  is  in  a  mean 
between  them.  A  man's  constitution  should  be  inured  to  labor, 
but  not  to  labor  which  is  excessive  or  of  one  sort  only,  such 
as  is  practised  by  athletes;  he  should  be  capable  of  all  the 
actions  of  a  freeman.  These  remarks  apply  equally  to  both 
parents. 

Women  who  afe  with  child  should  be  careful  of  themselves ; 
they  should  tdke  exercise  and  have  a  nourishing  diet.  The 
first  of  these  prescriptions  the  legislator  will  easily  carry  into 
eff«_ct  by  requiring  that  they  shall  take  a  walk  daily  to  some 
temple,  where  they  can  worship  the  gods  who  preside  over 
birth.<^  Their  minds,  however,  unlike  their  bodies,  they  ought 
to  keep  unexercised,  for  the  offspring  derive  their  natures  from 
their  mothers  as  plants  do  from  the  earth. 

As  to  the  exposure  and  rearing  of  children,  let  there  be  a 
law  that  no  deformed  child  shall  live,  but  where  there  are 
too  many  (for  in  our  State  population  has  a  limit),  when 
couples  have  children  in  excess,  and  the  state  of  feeling  is 
averse  to  the  exposure  of  offspring,  let  abortion  be  procured 
before  sense  and  life  have  begun ;  what  may  or  may  not  be  law- 
fully done  in  these  cases  depends  on  the  question  of  life  and 

sensation. 

c  Cp.  Plato,  Laws  vii.  789. 


THE  POLITICS  193 

And  now,  having  determined  at  what  ages  men  and  women 
are  to  begin  their  union,  let  us  also  determine  how  long  they 
shall  continue  to  beget  and  bear  offspring  for  the  State;  men 
who  are  too  old,  like  men  who  are  too  young,  produce  chil- 
dren who  are  defective  in  body  and  mind ;  the  children  of  very 
old  men  are  weakly.  The  limit,  then,  should  be  the  age  which 
is  the  prime  of  their  intelligence,  and  this  in  most  persons, 
according  to  the  notion  of  some  poets  who  measure  life  by 
periods  of  seven  years,  is  about  fifty  ;d  at  four  or  five  years 
later,  they  should  cease  from  having  families;  and  from  that 
time  forwards  only  cohabit  with  one  another  for  the  sake  of 
health,  or  for  some  similar  reason. 

As  to  adultery,  let  it  be  held  disgraceful  for  any  man  or 
woman  to  be  unfaithful  when  they  are  married,  and  called 
husband  and  wife.  If  during  the  time  of  bearing  children  any- 
thing of  the  sort  occur,  let  the  guilty  person  be  punished  with 
a  loss  of  privileges  in  proportion  to  the  offence.^ 

After  the  children  have  been  born,  the  manner  of  rearing 
them  may  be  supposed  to  have  a  great  effect  on  their  bodily 
strength.  It  would  appear  from  the  example  of  animals,  and 
of  those  nations  who  desire  to  create  the  military  habit,  that 
the  food  which  has  most  milk  in  it  is  best  suited  to  human 
beings;  but  the  less  wine  the  better,  if  they  would  escape 
diseases.  Also  all  the  motions  to  which  children  can  be  sub- 
jected at  their  early  age  are  very  useful.  But  in  order  to  pre- 
serve their  tender  limbs  from  distortion,  some  nations  have 
had  recourse  to  mechanical  appliances  which  straighten  their 
bodies,  yo  accustom  children  to  the  cold  from  their  earliest 
years  is  also  an  excellent  practice,  which  greatly  conduces 
to  health,  and  hardens  them  for  military  service.  Hence  many 
barbarians  have  a  custom  of  plunging  their  children  at  birth 
into  a  cold  stream ;  others,  like  the  Celts,  clothe  them  in  a  light 
wrapper  only.  For  human  nature  should  be  early  habituated 
to  endure  all  which  by  habit  it  can  be  made  to  endure;  but 
the  process  must  be  gradual.  And  children,  from  their  natural 
warmth,  may  be  easily  trained  to  bear  cold.  Such  care  should 
attend  them  in  the  first  stage  of  life. 

The  next  period  lasts  to  the  age  of  five;    during  this  no 
demand  should  be  made  upon  the  child  for  study  or  labor, 
lest  its  growth  be  impeded;  and  there  should  be  sufficient 
d  Cp.  Solon,  Fragm.  25  Bergk.  e  Cp.  Laws  viii.  841. 

13 


194 


ARISTOTLE 


motion  to  prevent  the  limbs  from  being  inactive.  This  can 
be  secured,  among  other  ways,  by  amusement,  but  the  amuse- 
ment should  not  be  vulgar  or  tiring  or  riotous.  The  direct- 
ors of  education,  as  they  are  termed,  should  be  careful 
what  tales  or  stories  the  children  hear,^  for  the  sports  of  chil- 
dren are  designed  to  prepare  the  way  for  the  business  of  later 
life,  and  should  be  for  the  most  part  imitations  of  the  occupa- 
tions which  they  will  hereafter  pursue  in  earnest.^  Those  are 
wrong  who  [like  Plato]  in  the  Laws  attempt  to  check  the 
loud  crying  and  screaming  of  children,  for  these  contribute 
towards  their  growth,  and,  in  a  manner,  exercise  their  bodies./* 
Straining  the  voice  has  an  effect  similar  to  that  produced  by 
the  retention  of  the  breath  in  violent  exertions.  Besides  other 
duties,  the  directors  of  education  should  have  an  eye  to  their 
bringing  up,  and  should  take  care  that  they  are  left  as  little 
as  possible  with  slaves.  For  until  they  are  seven  years  old 
they  must  live  at  home ;  and  therefore,  even  at  this  early  age, 
all  that  is  mean  and  low  should  be  banished  from  their  sight 
and  hearing.  Indeed,  there  is  nothing  which  the  legislator 
should  be  more  careful  to  drive  away  than  indecency  of  speech  ; 
for  the  light  utterance  of  shameful  words  is  akin  to  shameful 
actions.  The  young  especially  should  never  be  allowed  to 
repeat  or  hear  anything  of  the  sort.  A  freem.an  who  is  found 
saying  or  doing  what  is  forbidden,  if  he  be  too  young  as  yet 
to  have  the  privilege  of  a  place  at  the  public  tables,  should  be 
disgraced  and  beaten,  and  an  elder  person  degraded  as  his 
slavish  conduct  deserves.  And  since  we  do  not  allow  improper 
language,  clearly  we  should  also  banish  pictures  or  tales  which 
are  indecent.  Let  the  rulers  take  care  that  there  be  no  image 
or  picture  representing  unseemly  actions,  except  in  the  temples 
of  those  gods  at  whose  festivals  the  law  permits  even  ribaldry, 
and  whom  the  law  also  permits  to  be  worshipped  by  persons 
of  mature  age  on  behalf  of  themselves,  their  children,  and 
their  wives.  But  the  legislator  should  not  allow  youth  to  be 
hearers  of  satirical  Iambic  verses  or  spectators  of  comedy  until 
they  are  of  an  age  to  sit  at  the  public  tables  and  to  drink 
strong  wine;  by  that  time  education  will  have  armed  them 
against  the  evil  influences  of  such  representations. 

We  have  made  these  remarks  in  a  cursory  manner — they 

f  Plato,  Rep.  ii.  377  ff.  g.  Plato,  Laws  i.  643 ;  vii.  799. 

h  Ibid.  vii.  795. 


THE  POLITICS  195 

are  enough  for  the  present  occasion;  but  hereafter  we  will 
return  to  the  subject  and  after  a  fuller  discussion  determine 
whether  such  liberty  should  or  should  not  be  granted,  and  in 
what  way  granted,  if  at  all.  Theodorus,  the  tragic  actor,  was 
quite  right  in  saying  that  he  would  not  allow  any  other  actor, 
not  even  if  he  were  quite  second-rate,  to  enter  before  him- 
self, because  the  spectators  grew  fond  of  the  voices  which 
they  first  heard.  And  the  same  principle  of  association  ap- 
plies universally  to  things  as  well  as  persons,  for  we  always 
like  best  whatever  comes  first.  And  therefore  youth  should 
be  kept  strangers  to  all  that  is  bad,  and  especially  to  things 
which  suggest  vice  or  hate.  When  the  five  years  have  passed 
away,  during  the  two  following  years  they  must  look  on  at  the 
pursuits  which  they  are  hereafter  to  learn.  There  are  two 
periods  of  life  into  which  education  has  to  be  divided,  from 
seven  to  the  age  of  puberty,  and  onwards  to  the  age  of  one 
and  twenty.  [The  poets]  who  divide  ages  by  sevens  are  not 
always  right:  we  should  rather  adhere  to  the  divisions  actu- 
ally made  by  nature;  for  the  deficiencies  of  nature  are  what 
art  and  education  seek  to  fill  up. 

Let  us  then  first  inquire  if  any  regulations  are  to  be  laid 
down  about  children,  and  secondly,  whether  the  care  of  them 
should  be  the  concern  of  the  State  or  of  private  individuals, 
which  latter  is  in  our  own  day  the  common  custom,  and  in 
the  third  place,  what  these  regulations  should  be. 


BOOK  VIII 

NO  one  will  doubt  that  the  legislator  should  direct  his 
attention  above  all  to  the  education  of  youth,  or  that 
the  neglect  of  education  does  harm  to  States.  The 
citizen  should  be  moulded  to  suit  the  form  of  government 
under  which  he  lives.o  For  each  government  has  a  peculiar 
character  which  originally  formed  and  which  continues  to 
preserve  it.  The  character  of  democracy  creates  democracy, 
and  the  character  of  oligarchy  creates  oligarchy;  and  always 
the  better  the  character,  the  better  the  government. 

Now  for  the  exercise  of  any  faculty  or  art  a  previous  train- 
ing and  habituation  are  required;  clearly  therefore  for  the 
practice  of  virtue.  And  since  the  whole  city  has  one  end,  it 
is  manifest  that  education  should  be  one  and  the  same  for  all, 
and  that  it  should  be  public,  and  not  private — not  as  at  present, 
when  everyone  looks  after  his  own  children  separately,  and 
gives  them  separate  instruction  of  the  sort  which  he  thinks 
best;  the  training  in  things  which  are  of  common  interest 
should  be  the  same  for  all.  Neither  must  we  suppose  that 
anyone  of  the  citizens  belongs  to  himself,  for  they  all  belong  to 
the  State,  and  are  each  of  them  a  part  of  the  State,  and  the 
care  of  each  part  is  inseparable  from  the  care  of  the  whole. 
In  this  particular  the  Lacedaemonians  are  to  be  praised,  for 
they  take  the  greatest  pains  about  their  children,  and  make 
education  the  business  of  the  State. 

That  education  should  be  regulated  by  law  and  should  be 
an  affair  of  state  is  not  to  be  denied,  but  what  should  be  the 
character  of  this  public  education,  and  how  young  persons 
should  be  educated,  are  questions  which  remain  to  be  con- 
sidered. For  mankind  are  by  no  means  agreed  about  the 
things  to  be  taught,  whether  we  look  to  virtue  or  the  best  life. 
Neither  it  is  clear  whether  education  is  more  concerned  with 
intellectual  or  with  moral  virtue.    The  existing  practice  is  per- 

aCp.  Nic.  Eth.  x.  9.  §  13. 
196 


THE   POLITICS  197 

plexing;  no  one  knows  on  what  principle  we  should  proceed 
— should  the  useful  in  life,  or  should  virtue,  or  should  the 
higher  knowledge,  be  the  aim  of  our  training ;  all  three  opin- 
ions have  been  entertained.  Again,  about  the  means  there  is 
no  agreement;  for  different  persons,  starting  with  different 
ideas  about  the  nature  of  virtue,  naturally  disagree  about  the 
practice  of  it.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  children  should 
be  taught  those  useful  things  which  are  really  necessary,  but 
not  all  things;  for  occupations  are  divided  into  liberal  and 
illiberal ;  and  to  young  children  should  be  imparted  only  such 
kinds  of  knowledge  as  will  be  useful  to  them  without  vulgar- 
izing them.  And  any  occupation,  art,  or  science,  which  makes 
the  body  or  soul  or  mind  of  the  freeman  less  fit  for  the  prac- 
tice or  exercise  of  virtue,  is  vulgar;  wherefore  we  call  those 
arts  vulgar  which  tend  to  deform  the  body,  and  likewise  all 
paid  employments,  for  they  absorb  and  degrade  the  mind. 
There  are  also  some  liberal  arts  quite  proper  for  a  freeman 
to  acquire,  but  only  in  a  certain  degree,  and  if  he  attend  to 
them  too  closely,  in  order  to  attain  perfection  in  them,  the 
same  evil  effects  will  follow.  The  object  also  which  a  man  sets 
before  him  makes  a  great  difference ;  if  he  does  or  learns  any- 
thing for  his  own  sake  or  for  the  sake  of  his  friends,  or  with 
a  view  to  excellence,  the  action  will  not  appear  illiberal;  but 
if  done  for  the  sake  of  others,  the  very  same  action  will  be 
thought  menial  and  servile.  The  received  subjects  of  instruc- 
tion, as  I  have  already  remarked,  are  partly  of  a  liberal  and 
partly  of  an  illiberal  character. 

The  customary  branches  of  education  are  in  number  four; 
they  are — (i)  reading  and  writing,  (2)  gymnastic  exercises, 
(3)  music,  to  which  is  sometimes  added  (4)  drawing.  Of 
these,  reading  and  writing  and  drawing  are  regarded  as  use- 
ful for  the  purposes  of  life  in  a  variety  of  ways,  and  gymnastic 
exercises  are  thought  to  infuse  courage.  Concerning  music 
a  doubt  may  be  raised — in  our  own  day  most  men  cultivate  it 
for  the  sake  of  pleasure,  but  originally  it  was  included  in  educa- 
tion, because  nature  herself,  as  has  been  often  said,  requires 
that  we  should  be  able,  not  only  to  work  well,  but  to  use 
leisure  well ;  for,  as  I  must  repeat  once  and  again,&  the  first 
principle  of  all  action  is  leisure.  Both  are  required,  but 
leisure  is  better  than  occupation :  and  therefore  the  question 
b  As  in  Nic.  Eth.  x.  6. 


198  ARISTOTLE 

must  be  asked  in  good  earnest,  what  ought  we  to  do  when  at 
leisure?  Clearly  we  ought  not  to  be  amusing  ourselves,  for 
then  amusement  would  be  the  end  of  life.  But  if  this  is  in- 
conceivable, and  yet  amid  serious  occupations  amusement  is 
needed  more  than  at  other  times  (for  he  who  is  hard  at  work 
has  need  of  relaxation,  and  amusement  gives  relaxation, 
whereas  occupation  is  always  accompanied  with  exertion  and 
effort),  at  suitable  times  we  should  introduce  amusements, 
and  they  should  be  our  medicines,  for  the  emotion  which  they 
create  in  the  soul  is  a  relaxation,  and  from  the  pleasure  we 
obtain  rest.  Leisure  of  itself  gives  pleasure  and  happiness 
and  enjoyment  of  life,  which  are  experienced,  not  by  the  busy 
man,  but  by  those  who  have  leisure.  For  he  who  is  occupied 
has  in  view  some  end  which  he  has  not  attained ;  but  happiness 
is  an  end  which  all  men  deem  to  be  accompanied  with  pleasure 
and  not  with  pain.  This  pleasure,  however,  is  regarded  dif- 
ferently by  different  persons,  and  varies  according  to  the 
habit  of  individuals ;  the  pleasure  of  the  best  man  is  the  best, 
and  springs  from  the  noblest  sources.  It  is  clear  then  that 
there  are  branches  of  learning  and  education  which  we  must 
study  with  a  view  to  the  enjoyment  of  leisure,  and  these  are  to 
be  valued  for  their  own  sake ;  whereas  those  kinds  of  knowledge 
which  are  useful  in  business  are  to  be  deemed  necessary,  and 
exist  for  the  sake  of  other  things.  And  therefore  our  fathers 
admitted  music  into  education,  not  on  the  ground  either  of  its 
necessity  or  utility,  for  it  is  not  necessary,  nor  indeed  useful  in 
the  same  manner  as  reading  and  writing,  which  are  useful  in 
money-making,  in  the  management  of  a  household,  in  the  ac- 
quisition of  knowledge  and  in  political  life,  nor  like  drawing, 
useful  for  a  more  correct  judgment  of  the  works  of  artists,  nor 
again  like  gymnastic,  which  gives  health  and  strength;  for 
neither  of  these  is  to  be  gained  from  music.  There  remains, 
then,  the  use  of  music  for  intellectual  enjoyment  in  leisure; 
which  appears  to  have  been  the  reason  of  its  introduction,  this 
being  one  of  the  ways  in  which  it  is  thought  that  a  freeman 
should  pass  his  leisure ;  as  Homer  says — 

"  How  good  is  it  to  invite  men  to  the  pleasant  feast,** 

and  afterwards  he  speaks  of  others  whom  he  describes  as  in- 
viting 

"  The  bard  who  would  delight  them  alL** 


THE  POLITICS  199 

And  in  another  place  Odysseus  says  there  is  no  better  way  of 
passing  Hfe  than  when  "  Men's  hearts  are  merry  and  the  ban- 
queters in  the  hall,  sitting  in  order,  hear  the  voice  of  the 
minstrel."  c  It  is  evident,  then,  that  there  is  a  sort  of  educa- 
tion in  which  parents  should  train  their  sons,  not  as  being 
useful  or  necessary,  but  because  it  is  liberal  or  noble.  Whether 
this  is  of  one  kind  only,  or  of  more  than  one,  and  if  so,  what 
they  are,  and  how  they  are  to  be  imparted,  must  hereafter  be 
determined.  Thus  much  we  are  now  in  a  position  to  say  that 
the  ancients  witness  to  us ;  for  their  opinion  may  be  gathered 
from  the  fact  that  music  is  one  of  the  received  and  traditional 
branches  of  education.  Further,  it  is  clear  that  children  should 
be  instructed  in  some  useful  things — for  example,  in  reading 
and  writing — not  only  for  their  usefulness,  but  also  because 
many  other  sorts  of  knowledge  are  required  through  them. 
With  a  like  view  they  may  be  taught  drawing,  not  to  prevent 
their  making  mistakes  in  their  own  purchases,  or  in  order  that 
they  may  not  be  imposed  upon  in  the  buying  or  selling  of 
articles,  but  rather  because  it  makes  them  judges  of  the  beauty 
of  the  human  form.  To  be  always  seeking  after  the  useful 
does  not  become  free  and  exalted  souls.<^  Now  it  is  clear  that 
in  education  habit  must  go  before  reason,  and  the  body  before 
the  mind ;  and  therefore  boys  should  be  handed  over  to  the 
trainer,  who  creates  in  them  the  proper  habit  of  body,  and  to 
the  wrestling-master,  who  teaches  them  their  exercises. 

Of  those  States  which  in  our  own  day  seem  to  take  the 
greatest  care  of  children,  some  aim  at  producing  in  them  an 
athletic  habit,  but  they  only  injure  their  forms  and  stunt  their 
growth.  Although  the  Lacedaemonians  have  not  fallen  into 
this  mistake,  yet  they  brutalize  their  children  by  laborious  ex- 
ercises which  they  think  will  make  them  courageous.  But  in 
truth,  as  we  have  often  repeated,  education  should  not  be  ex- 
clusively directed  to  this  or  to  any  other  single  end.  And  even 
if  we  suppose  the  Lacedaemonians  to  be  right  in  their  end,  they 
do  not  attain  it.  For  among  barbarians  and  among  animals 
courage  is  found  associated,  not  with  the  greatest  ferocity, 
but  with  a  gentle  and  lion-like  temper.  There  are  many  races 
who  are  ready  enough  to  kill  and  eat  men,  such  as  the 
Achaeans  and  Heniochi,  who  both  live  about  the  Black  Sea  ;^  and 
there  are  other  inland  tribes,  as  bad  or  worse,  who  all  live  by 

c  Od.  ix.  7.     d  Cp.  Plato  Rep.  vii.  525  ff.     e  Cp.  N.  Eth.  vii.  5.  §  2. 


200  ARISTOTLE 

plunder,  but  have  no  courage.  It  is  notorious  that  the  La- 
cedaemonians, while  they  were  themselves  assiduous  in  their 
laborious  drill,  were  superior  to  others,  but  now  they  are  beaten 
both  in  war  and  gymnastic  exercises.  For  their  ancient  supe- 
riority did  not  depend  on  their  mode  of  training  their  youth, 
but  only  on  the  circumstance  that  they  trained  them  at  a  time 
when  others  did  not.  Hence  we  may  infer  that  what  is  noble, 
not  what  is  brutal,  should  have  the  first  place;  no  wolf  or 
other  wild  animal  will  face  a  really  noble  danger ;  such  dangers 
are  for  the  brave  man.^  And  parents  who  devote  their  chil- 
dren to  gymnastics  while  they  neglect  their  necessary  educa- 
tion, in  reality  vulgarize  them ;  for  they  make  them  useful  to 
the  State  in  one  quality  only,  and  even  in  this  the  argument 
proves  them  to  be  inferior  to  others.  We  should  judge  the 
Lacedaemonians  not  from  what  they  have  been,  but  from  what 
they  are;  for  now  they  have  rivals  who  compete  with  their 
education ;  formerly  they  had  none. 

It  is  an  admitted  principle  that  gymnastic  exercises  should 
be  employed  in  education,  and  that  for  children  they  should 
be  of  a  lighter  kind,  avoiding  severe  regimen  or  painful  toil, 
lest  the  growth  of  the  body  be  impaired.  The  evil  of  excessive 
training  in  early  years  is  strikingly  proved  by  the  example 
of  the  Olympic  victors;  for  not  more  than  two  or  three  of 
them  have  gained  a  prize  both  as  boys  and  as  men ;  their  early 
training  and  severe  gymnastic  exercises  exhausted  their  con- 
stitutions. When  boyhood  is  over,  three  years  should  be  spent 
in  other  studies;  the  period  of  life  which  follows  may  then 
be  devoted  to  hard  exercise  and  strict  regimen.  Men  ought 
not  to  labor  at  the  same  time  with  their  minds  and  with  their 
bodies ;  g  for  the  two  kinds  of  labor  are  opposed  to  one  an- 
other, the  labor  of  the  body  impedes  the  mind,  and  the  labor 
of  the  mind  the  body. 

Concerning  music  there  are  some  questions  which  we  have 
already  raised ;  these  we  may  now  resume  and  carry  further ; 
and  our  remarks  will  serve  as  a  prelude  to  this  or  any  other 
discussion  of  the  subject.  It  is  not  easy  to  determine  the 
nature  of  music,  or  why  anyone  should  have  a  knowledge  of 
it.  Shall  we  say,  for  the  sake  of  amusement  and  relaxation, 
like  sleep  or  drinking,  which  are  not  good  in  themselves,  but 
are  pleasant,  and  at  the  same  time  "  make  care  to  cease,"  as 
/  Cp.  Nic.  Eth.  iii.  6.  §  8.  g  Cp.  Plato,  Rep.  vii.  537  B. 


THE  POLITICS  201 

Euripides  h  says  ?  And  therefore  men  rank  them  with  music, 
and  make  use  of  all  three — sleep,  drinking,  music — to  which 
some  add  dancing.  Or  shall  we  argue  that  music  conduces 
to  virtue,  on  the  ground  that  it  can  form  our  minds  and  habitu- 
ate us  to  true  pleasures  as  our  bodies  are  made  by  gymnastic 
to  be  of  a  certain  character  ?  Or  shall  we  say  that  it  contributes 
to  the  enjoyment  of  leisure  and  mental  cultivation,  which  is 
a  third  alternative?  Now  obviously  youth  are  not  to  be  in- 
structed with  a  view  to  their  amusement,  for  learning  is  no 
pleasure,  but  is  accompanied  with  pain.  Neither  is  intellectual 
enjoyment  suitable  to  boys  of  that  age,  for  it  is  the  end,  and 
that  which  is  imperfect  cannot  attain  the  perfect  or  end.  But 
perhaps  it  may  be  said  that  boys  learn  music  for  the  sake  of 
the  amusement  which  they  will  have  when  they  are  grown  up. 
If  so,  why  should  they  learn  themselves,  and  not,  like  the 
Persian  and  Median  kings,  enjoy  the  pleasure  and  instruction 
which  are  derived  from  hearing  others?  (for  surely  skilled 
persons  who  have  made  music  the  business  and  profession  of 
their  lives  will  be  better  performers  than  those  who  practise 
only  to  learn).  If  they  must  learn  music,  on  the  same  principle 
they  should  learn  cookery,  which  is  absurd.  And  even  granting 
that  music  may  form  the  character,  the  objection  still  holds: 
why  should  we  learn  ourselves?  Why  cannot  we  attain  true 
pleasure  and  form  a  correct  judgment  from  hearing  others, 
like  the  Lacedaemonians? — for  they,  without  learning  music, 
nevertheless  can  correctly  judge,  as  they  say,  of  good  and  bad 
melodies.  Or  again,  if  music  should  be  used  to  promote  cheer- 
fulness and  refined  intellectual  enjoyment,  the  objection  still 
remains — why  should  we  learn  ourselves  instead  of  enjoying 
the  performances  of  others?  We  may  illustrate  what  we  are 
saying  by  our  conception  of  the  gods;  for  in  the  poets  Zeus 
does  not  himself  sing  or  play  on  the  lyre.  Nay,  we  call  pro- 
fessional performers  vulgar;  no  freeman  would  play  or  sing 
unless  he  were  intoxicated  or  in  jest.  But  these  matters  may, 
be  left  for  the  present. 

The  first  question  is  whether  music  is  or  is  not  to  be  a  part 
of  education.  Of  the  three  things  mentioned  in  our  discussion, 
which  is  it? — Education  or  amusement  or  intellectual  enjoy- 
ment, for  it  may  be  reckoned  under  all  three,  and  seems  to 
share  in  the  nature  of  all  of  them.  Amusement  is  for  the  sake 
h  Bacchae,  380. 


902  ARISTOTLE 

of  relaxation,  and  relaxation  is  of  necessity  sweet,  for  it  is  the 
remedy  of  pain  caused  by  toil,  and  intellectual  enjoyment  is 
universally  acknowledged  to  contain  an  element  not  only  of 
the  noble  but  of  the  pleasant,  for  happiness  is  made  up  of 
both.  All  men  agree  that  music  is  one  of  the  pleasantest  things, 
whether  with  or  without  song;  as  Musaeus  says, 

"  Song  is  to  mortals  of  all  things  the  sweetest." 

Hence  and  with  good  reason  it  is  introduced  into  social  gather- 
ings and  entertainments,  because  it  makes  the  hearts  of  men 
glad:  so  that  on  this  ground  alone  we  may  assume  that  the 
young  ought  to  be  trained  in  it.  For  innocent  pleasures  are 
not  only  in  harmony  with  the  perfect  end  of  life,  but  they 
also  provide  relaxation.  And  whereas  men  rarely  attain  the 
end,  but  often  rest  by  the  way  ^nd  amuse  themselves,  not  only 
with  a  view  to  some  good,  but  also  for  the  pleasure's  sake,  it 
may  be  well  for  them  at  times  to  find  a  refreshment  in  music. 
It  sometimes  happens  that  men  make  amusement  the  end, 
for  the  end  probably  contains  some  element  of  pleasure,  though 
not  any  ordinary  or  lower  pleasure;  but  they  mistake  the 
lower  for  the  higher,  and  in  seeking  for  the  one  find  the  other, 
since  every  pleasure  has  a  likeness  to  the  end  of  action.*  For 
the  end  is  not  eligible,  nor  do  the  pleasures  which  we  have 
described  exist,  for  the  sake  of  any  future  good  but  of  tha 
past,  that  is  to  say,  they  are  the  alleviation  of  past  toils  and 
pains.  And  we  may  infer  this  to  be  the  reason  why  men  seek 
happiness  from  common  pleasures.  But  music  is  pursued,  not 
only  as  an  alleviation  of  past  toil,  but  also  as  providing  recrea- 
tion. And  who  can  say  whether,  having  this  use,  it  may  not 
also  have  a  nobler  one  ?  In  addition  to  this  common  pleasure, 
felt  and  shared  in  by  all  (for  the  pleasure  given  by  music  is 
natural,  and  therefore  adapted  to  all  ages  and  characters),  may 
it  not  have  also  some  influence  over  the  character  and  the  soul  ? 
It  must  have  such  an  influence  if  characters  are  affected  by  it. 
And  that  they  are  so  affected  is  proved  by  the  power  which 
the  songs  of  Olympus  and  of  many  others  exercise ;  for  beyond 
question  they  inspire  enthusiasm,  and  enthusiasm  is  an  emotion 
of  the  ethical  part  of  the  soul.  Besides,  when  men  hear  imita- 
tions, even  unaccompanied  by  melody  or  rhythm,  their  feelings 
move  in  sympathy.  Since  then  music  is  a  pleasure,  and  virtue 
» Cp.  N.  Eth.  vii.  13.  §  6. 


THE  POLITICS  203 

consists  in  rejoicing  and  loving  and  hating  aright,  there  is  clear- 
ly nothing  which  we  are  so  much  concerned  to  acquire  and  to 
cultivate  as  the  power  of  forming  right  judgments,  and  of 
taking  delight  in  good  dispositions  and  noble  actions./  Rhythm 
and  melody  supply  imitations  of  anger  and  gentleness,  and 
also  of  courage  and  temperance  and  of  virtues  and  vices  in 
general,  which  hardly  fall  short  of  the  actual  affections,  as 
we  know  from  our  own  experience,  for  in  listening  to  such 
strains  our  souls  undergo  a  change.  The  habit  of  feeling 
pleasure  or  pain  at  mere  representations  is  not  far  removed 
from  the  same  feeling  about  realities ;  k  for  example,  if  any- 
one delights  in  the  sight  of  a  statue  for  its  beauty  only,  it 
necessarily  follows  that  the  sight  of  the  original  will  be  pleasant 
to  him.  No  other  sense,  such  as  taste  or  touch,  has  any  resem- 
blance to  moral  qualities;  in  sight  only  there  is  a  little,  for 
figures  are  to  some  extent  of  a  moral  character,  and  [so  far] 
all  participate  in  the  feeling  about  them.  Again,  figures  and 
colors  are  not  imitations,  but  signs  of  moral  habits,  indications 
which  the  body  g^ves  of  states  of  feeling.  The  connection  of 
them  with  morals  is  slight,  but  in  so  far  as  there  is  any,  young 
men  should  be  taught  to  look,  not  at  the  works  of  Pauson,  but 
at  those  of  Polygnotus,?  or  any  other  painter  or  statuary 
who  expresses  moral  ideas.  On  the  other  hand,  even  in  mere 
melodies  wt  there  is  an  imitation  of  character,  for  the  musical 
modes  differ  essentially  from  one  another,  and  those  who  hear 
them  are  differently  affected  by  each.  Some  of  them  make 
men  sad  and  grave,  like  the  so-called  Mixolydian,  others  en- 
feeble the  mind,  like  the  relaxed  harmonies,  others,  again, 
produce  a  moderate  and  settled  temper,  which  appears  to  be 
the  peculiar  effect  of  the  Dorian;  the  Phrygian  inspires 
enthusiasm.  The  whole  subject  has  been  well  treated  by  philo- 
sophical writers  on  this  branch  of  education,  and  thev  confirm 
their  arguments  by  facts.  The  same  principles  'apply  to 
rhythms  :n  some  have  a  character  of  rest,  others  of  motion, 
and  of  these  latter  again,  some  have  a  more  vulgar,  others  a 
nobler  movement.  Enough  has  been  said  to  show  that  music 
has  a  power  of  forming  the  character,  and  should  therefore 
be  introduced  into  the  education  of  the  young.    The  study  is 

L  ^      X^P-  ?]^*°'  .^^P-  "'•  401,  402 ;  Laws  ii.  658.  650. 
*Cp.  Plato,  Rep.  111.  395.  /  Cp.  Poet.  2.  §  2;  6.  §  15. 

m  Cp.  Plato,  Rep.  111.  398,  399.  n  Rep.  iii.  399  e,  400. 


2o4  ARISTOTLE 

suited  to  the  stage  of  youth,  for  young  persons  will  not,  if 
they  can  help,  endure  anything  which  is  not  sweetened  by 
pleasure,  and  music  has  a  natural  sweetness.  There  seems  to 
be  in  us  a  sort  of  affinity  to  harmonies  and  rhythms,  which 
makes  some  philosophers  say  that  the  soul  is  a  harmony,  others, 
that  she  possesses  harmony. 

And  now  we  have  to  determine  the  question  which  has  been 
already  raised,  whether  children  should  be  themselves  taught 
to  sing  and  play  or  not.  Clearly  there  is  a  considerable  differ- 
ence made  in  the  character  by  the  actual  practice  of  the  art. 
It  is  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  for  those  who  do  not  perform 
to  be  good  judges  of  the  performance  of  others.  Besides, 
children  should  have  something  to  do,  and  the  rattle  of  archy- 
tas,  which  people  give  to  their  children  in  order  to  amuse 
them  and  prevent  them  from  breaking  anything  in  the  house, 
was  a  capital  invention,  for  a  young  thing  cannot  be  quiet. 
The  rattle  is  a  toy  suited  to  the  infant  mind,  and  [musical], 
education  is  a  rattle  or  toy  for  children  of  a  larger  growth. 
We  conclude  then  that  they  should  be  taught  music  in  such  a 
way  as  to  become  not  only  critics  but  performers. 

The  question  what  is  or  is  not  suitable  for  different  age: 
may  be  easily  answered;  nor  is  there  any  difficulty  in  meet- 
ing the  objection  of  those  who  say  that  the  study  of  music 
is  vulgar.  We  reply  (i)  in  the  first  place,  that  they  who  are 
to  be  judges  must  also  be  performers,  and  that  they  should 
begin  to  practise  early,  although  when  they  are  older  they  may 
be  spared  the  execution ;  they  must  have  learned  to  appreciate 
what  is  good  and  to  delight  in  it,  thanks  to  the  knowledge 
which  they  acquired  in  their  youth.  As  to  (2)  the  vulgarizing 
effect  which  music  is  supposed  to  exercise,  this  is  a  question 
[of  degree],  which  we  shall  have  no  difficulty  in  determining, 
when  we  have  considered  to  what  extent  freemen  who  are  being 
trained  to  political  virtue  should  pursue  the  art,  what  melodies 
and  what  rhythms  they  should  be  allowed  to  use,  and  what  in- 
struments should  be  employed  in  teaching  them  to  play,  for 
even  the  instrument  makes  a  difference.  The  answer  to  the 
objection  turns  upon  these  distinctions;  for  it  is  quite  pos- 
sible that  certain  methods  of  teaching  and  learning  music  do 
really  have  a  degrading  effect.  It  is  evident  then  that  the 
learning  of  music  ought  not  to  impede  the  business  of  riper 
years,  or  to  degrade  the  body  or  render  it  unfit  for  civil  or 


THE  POLITICS  S05 

military  duties,  whether  for  the  early  practice  or  for  the  later 
study  of  them. 

The  right  measure  will  be  attained  if  students  of  music 
stop  short  of  the  arts  which  are  practised  in  professional  con- 
tests, and  do  not  seek  to  acquire  those  fantastic  marvels  of 
execution  which  are  now  the  fashion  in  such  contests,  and 
from  these  have  passed  into  education.  Let  the  young  pursue  ' 
their  studies  until  they  are  able  to  feel  delight  in  noble  melodies 
and  rhythms,  and  not  merely  in  that  common  part  of  music 
in  which  every  slave  or  child,  and  even  some  animals  find 
pleasure. 

From  these  principles  we  may  also  infer  what  instruments 
should  be  used.  The  flute,  or  any  other  instrument  which  re- 
quires great  skill,  as  for  example  the  harp,  ought  not  to  be 
admitted  into  education,  but  only  such  as  will  make  intelligent 
students  of  music  or  of  the  other  parts  of  education.  Besides, 
the  flute  is  not  an  instrument  which  has  a  good  moral  effect; 
it  is  too  exciting.  The  proper  time  for  using  it  is  when  the 
performance  aims  not  at  instruction,  but  at  the  relief  of  the 
passions.  And  there  is  a  further  objection;  the  impediment 
which  the  flute  presents  to  the  use  of  the  voice  detracts  from 
its  educational  value.  The  ancients  therefore  were  right  in  for- 
bidding the  flute  to  youths  and  freemen,  although  they  had 
once  allowed  it.  For  when  their  wealth  gave  them  greater 
leisure,  and  they  had  loftier  no'ions  of  excellence,  being  also 
elated  with  their  success,  both  before  and  after  the  Persian 
War,  with  more  zeal  than  discernment  they  pursued  every  kind 
of  knowledge,  and  so  they  introduced  the  flute  into  education. 
At  Lacedaemon  there  was  a  choragus  who  led  the  chorus  with 
a  flute,  and  at  Athens  the  instrument  became  so  popular  that 
most  freemen  could  play  upon  it.  The  popularity  is  shown  hy^ 
the  tablet  which  Thrasippus  dedicated  when  he  furnished  the 
chorus  to  Ecphantides.  Later  experience  enabled  men  to  judge 
what  was  or  was  not  really  conducive  to  virtue,  and  they 
rejected  both  the  flute  and  several  other  old-fashioned  instru- 
ments, such  as  the  Lydian  harp,  the  many-stringed  lyre,  the 
heptagon,  triangle,  sambuca,  and  the  like — which  are  intended 
only  to  give  pleasure  to  the  hearer,  and  require  extraordinary 
skill  of  hand.o  There  is  a  meaning  also  in  the  myth  of  the 
ancients,  which  tells  how  Athene  invented  the  flute  and  then 
0  Cp.  Plato,  Rep.  iii.  399  D. 


so6  ARISTOTLE 

threw  it  away.  It  was  not  a  bad  idea  of  theirs,  that  the  goddess 
disliked  the  instrument  because  it  made  the  face  ugly;  but 
with  still  more  reason  may  we  say  that  she  rejected  it  because 
the  acquirement  of  flute-playing  contributes  nothing  to  the 
mind,  since  to  Athene  we  ascribe  both  knowledge  and  art. 

Thus  then  we  reject  the  professional  instruments  and  also 
the  professional  mode  of  education  in  music — and  by  profes- 
sional we  mean  that  which  is  adopted  in  contests,  for  in  this 
the  performer  practises  the  art,  not  for  the  sake  of  his  own  im- 
provement, but  in  order  to  give  pleasure,  and  that  of  a  vulgar 
sort,  to  his  hearers.  For  this  reason  the  execution  of  such 
music  is  not  the  part  of  a  freeman  but  of  a  paid  performer, 
and  the  result  is  that  the  performers  are  vulgarized,  for  the 
end  at  which  they  aim  is  hzd.P  The  vulgarity  of  the  spectator 
tends  to  lower  the  character  of  the  music  and  therefore  of  the 
performers ;  they  look  to  him — ^he  makes  them  what  they  are, 
and  fashions  even  their  bodies  by  the  movements  which  he 
expects  them  to  exhibit. 

We  have  also  to  consider  rhythms  and  harmonies.  Shall 
we  use  them  all  in  education  or  make  a  distinction  ?  and  shall 
the  distinction  be  that  which  is  made  by  those  who  are  en- 
gaged in  education,  or  shall  it  be  some  other?  For  we  see 
that  music  is  produced  by  melody  and  rhythm,  and  we  ought 
to  know  what  influence  these  have  respectively  on  education 
and  whether  we  should  prefer  excellence  in  melody  or  excel- 
lence in  rhythm.  But  as  the  subject  has  been  very  well  treated 
b"  many  musicians  of  the  present  day,  and  also  by  philosophers 
who  have  had  considerable  experience  of  musical  education, 
to  these  we  would  refer  the  more  exact  student  of  the  subject; 
we  shall  only  speak  of  it  now  after  the  manner  of  the  legislator, 
having  regard  to  general  principles. 

We  accept  the  division  of  melodies  proposed  by  certain  phi- 
losophers into  ethical  melodies,  melodies  of  action,  and  passion- 
ate or  inspiring  melodies,  each  having,  as  they  say,  a  mode 
or  harmony  corresponding  to  it.  But  we  maintain  further  that 
music  should  be  studied,  not  for  the  sake  of  one,  but  of  many 
benefits,  that  is  to  say,  with  a  view  to  (i)  education,  (2) 
purification  (the  word  "  purification  "  we  use  at  present  with- 
out explanation,  but  when  hereafter  we  speak  of  poetry ,9  we 
will  treat  the  subject  with  more  precision)  ;  music  may  also 
p  Cp.  Plato,  Laws  iii.  700.  q  Cp.  Poet.  c.  6. 


THE  POLITICS  207 

serve  (3)   for  intellectual  enjoyment,  for  relaxation  and  for 
recreation  after  exertion.     It  is  clear,  therefore,  that  all  the 
harmonies  must  be  employed  by  us,  but  not  all  of  them  in 
the  same  manner.    In  education  ethical  melodies  are  to  be  pre- 
ferred, but  we  may  listen  to  the  melodies  of  action  and  passion 
when  they  are  performed  by  others.     For  feelings  such  as 
pity  and  fear,  or,  again,  enthusiasm,  exist  very  strongly  in 
some  souls,  and  have  more  or  less  influence  over  all.     Some 
persons  fall  into  a  religious  frenzy,  whom  we  see  disenthralled 
by  the  use  of  mystic  melodies,  which  bring  healing  and  purifica- 
tion to  the  soul.     Those  who  are  influenced  by  pity  or  fear 
and  every  emotional  nature  have  a  like  experience,  others  in 
their  degree  are  stirred  by  something  which  specially  affects 
them,  and  all  are  in  a  manner  purified  and  their  souls  lightened 
and  delighted.    The  melodies  of  purification  likewise  give  an 
innocent  pleasure  to  mankind.     Such  are  the  harmonies  and 
the  melodies  in  which  those  who  perform  music  at  the  theatre 
should  be  invited  to  compete.     But  since  the  spectators  are 
of  two  kinds — ^the  one  free  and  educated,  and  the  other  a  vulgar 
crowd  composed  of  mechanics,  laborers,  and  the  like — there 
ought  to  be  contests  and  exhibitions  instituted  for  the  relaxa- 
tion of  the  second  class  also.    And  the  melodies  will  correspond 
to  their  minds;    for  as  their  minds  are  perverted  from  the 
natural  state,  so  there  are  exaggerated  and  corrupted  har- 
monies which  are  in  like  manner  a  perversion.    A  man  receives 
pleasure  from  what  is  natural  to  him,  and  therefore  profes- 
sional musicians  may  be  allowed  to  practise  this  lower  sort  of 
music  before  an  audience  of  a  lower  type.    But,  for  the  pur- 
poses of  education,  as  I  have  already  said,  those  modes  and 
melodies  should  be  employed  which  are  ethical,  such  as  the 
Dorian;    though  we  may  include  any  others  which  are  ap- 
proved by  philosophers  who  have  had  a  musical  education. 
The  Socrates  of  the  "  Republic  "r  is  wrong  in  retaining  only 
the  Phrygian  mode  along  with  the  Dorian,  and  the  more  so 
because  he  rejects  the  flute ;   for  the  Phrygian  is  to  the  modes 
what  the  flute  is  to  musical  instruments — both  of  them  are 
exciting  and  emotional.    Poetry  proves  this,  for  Bacchic  frenzy 
and  all  similar  emotions  are  most  suitably  expressed  by  the 
flute,  and  are  better  set  to  the  Phrygian  than  to  any  other 
harmony.    The  dithyramb,  for  example,  is  acknowledged  to 
r  Plato,  Rep.  iii.  399- 


2o8  ARISTOTLE 

be  Phrygian,  a  fact  of  which  the  connoisseurs  of  music  offer 
many  proofs,  saying,  among  other  things,  that  Philoxenus, 
having  attempted  to  compose  his  Tales ^  as  a  dithyramb  in  the 
Dorian  mode,  found  it  impossible,  and  fell  back  into  the  more 
appropriate  Phrygian.  All  men  agree  that  the  Dorian  music 
is  the  gravest  and  manliest.  And  whereas  we  say  that  the 
extremes  should  be  avoided  and  the  mean  followed,  and 
whereas  the  Dorian  is  a  mean  between  the  other  harmonies 
[the  Phrygian  and  the  Lydian],  it  is  evident  that  our  youth 
should  be  taught  the  Dorian  music. 

Two  principles  have  to  be  kept  in  view,  what  is  possible, 
what  is  becoming :  at  these  every  man  ought  to  aim.  But  even 
these  are  relative  to  age ;  the  old  who  have  lost  their  powers 
cannot  very  well  sing  the  severe  melodies,  and  nature  her- 
self seems  to  suggest  that  their  songs  should  be  of  the  more 
relaxed  kind.  Wherefore  the  musicians  likewise  blame  Soc- 
rates, and  with  justice,  for  rejecting  the  relaxed  harmonies  in 
education  under  the  idea  that  they  are  intoxicating,  not  in  the 
ordinary  sense  of  intoxication  (for  wine  rather  tends  to  ex- 
cite men),  but  because  they  have  no  strength  in  them.  And 
so,  with  a  view  to  a  time  of  life  when  men  begin  to  grow  old, 
they  ought  to  practise  the  gentler  harmonies  and  melodies  as 
well  as  the  others.  And  if  there  be  any  harmony,  such  as  the 
Lydian  above  all  others  appears  to  be,  which  is  suited  to  chil- 
dren of  tender  age,  and  possesses  the  elements  both  of  order 
and  of  education,  clearly  [we  ought  to  use  it,  for]  education 
should  be  based  upon  three  principles — the  mean,  the  possible, 
the  becoming,  these  three. 

sCp.  Poet  c  2,  §  7- 


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